


Fate or Chance or Something Else Entirely

by Harper_Vs_Life



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Mystery, Thrown into Thedas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2018-12-04 04:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 33,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11547195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harper_Vs_Life/pseuds/Harper_Vs_Life
Summary: "When you talk about the thing that hurts you, you breathe life to the pain. You have to give it life or let it die inside of you. Are you strong enough to carry those bones around with you?" A modern girl's struggle with love, loss and darkspawn in a world without Google. Rating may change later.





	1. Prologue

 “Hey, this is Lauren. I can’t come to the phone right now, or I’m ignoring you. Either way, leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Or I won’t…because, you know, I’m ignoring you. You know what you did.”

 I grinned, shaking my head at my sister’s idiotic voicemail greeting and waited for the beep.

 “Hey, Lauren. Listen…I know it’s late, and you’re probably asleep, I just…I don’t know, I’m just out for a drive and I felt like calling you. I don’t even…whatever, I just got a feeling that maybe you’d be awake right now or something. Just wanted to hear your voice…shut up, don’t make fun of me!” I laughed, picturing her rolling her eyes at my sappiness. Truth be told, I wasn’t really sure why I was calling her. I had hit dial before I even realised I was _thinking_ about calling her. I shook my head, realising that my inner-thought-process had left a good five-second silence on the voicemail message. “Yeah…so, anyway…give me a call back when you can. I love you.”

 I hung up and sighed, wondering briefly where I was going. I didn’t know, but it didn’t seem to matter somehow. I was just driving. There was a nagging voice in the back of my mind that insisted that this wasn’t normal, driving around at four o'clock on a Wednesday morning for no good reason, but it was all too easy to ignore it. The sky was a light grey colour, not quite dark, but not quite light yet either, and the roads were empty. What road was this, anyway? I was surrounded by green fields on both sides, but that didn’t exactly narrow things down out here. My family and I lived in a tiny village called Auchenheath, which was surrounded by seven or eight other tiny villages within walking distance of one another, all connected by the area’s dominant farming community.

 It was a lovely place, really, but when you grow up here, you don’t appreciate the quiet beauty of trees and rivers and green hills: you just look for a way to get out – to escape the quiet and the green for somewhere busy and breathing and grey. You get out, or you live and die your quiet life, just like your parents and your grandparents before you, and you definitely _don’t_ make a difference. I’m not saying that I want to make a difference, exactly. But I would like the freedom to be able to choose to want to make a difference…and there have _got_ to be hotter guys in the city than there are here. I mean my God, if Gavin Grieve is what qualifies as a heart-throb in this place, I may as well just resign myself to being a spinster right now. And then I was thinking about Gavin. Phht. _Gavin Grieve_. He was the sports champion at the local high-school, he had average grades but that didn’t matter, because everyone knew that he was going to work on the farm with his dad anyway. And that was _good_. People around here _respected_ that.

 My sister used to say that he was the “biggest little shit in Lanarkshire”. I grinned at the memory. And then I was thinking about Lauren again. I still wasn’t sure why exactly I had felt the need to call her, but as soon as I started to wonder about it, I felt anxious that I hadn’t got through. I tapped out a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel, chewing my lip, and reached out, almost subconsciously, to the phone still nestled in the hands-free holder on the dash, and hit re-dial. It rang twice and I shook my head, hanging up.

_What am I doing? If I wake her up, she’ll kill me_. My sister was not a morning person. I slapped both hands back on the steering wheel and drove for a few more minutes in silence. The clock on the dashboard flashed five am. George Bowie’s Radio Breakfast Show would just be starting on Clyde One. I had never actually been awake early enough to catch the start of it before. I moved to turn the radio on, but my hand wouldn’t budge from the steering wheel.

 I frowned, trying again to release my grip on the wheel, but my hands stayed stuck fast, like they didn’t belong to me, or like I was no longer in control of them. Confusion and panic rose up inside up me, and my heart started hammering in my chest. At the same time, the dial on my speedometer started moving slowly, going from forty to fifty…to sixty…to seventy…I was screaming now. Not sure when that started. After that, things go a bit blurry – hardly surprising when you’re pushing ninety miles an hour on a country road in half-light – but I do remember the tree.

 Gnarled and black, it stood out from its surroundings like it didn’t belong there. My hands – _not my hands anymore_ – turned the wheel ever so slightly so that I was heading straight for it – like it was a homing beacon, pulling me in. I closed my eyes, defeated.

 “Lauren…LAUREN!” Without knowing why, I screamed her name, and the darkness swallowed it, and became me, and my hands finally let go of the wheel. Too late. Too late. When you grow up here, you don’t appreciate the quiet beauty of trees and rivers and green hills: you just look for a way to get out – to escape the quiet and the green for somewhere busy and breathing and grey. You get out, or you live and die your quiet life, just like your parents and your grandparents before you, and you definitely don’t make a difference.


	2. The Sudden Stop

 “Emily!”

 The tears were there before I opened my eyes, and I sat bolt upright in bed. A dream. Was it a dream? Was I awake? Had I been sleeping?

 A light went on outside my bedroom door and my dad poked his head in.

 “Lauren, it’s five thirty in the morning. What are you screaming about?” He asked, with all the rage and confusion of a man who had just been awoken in a very unpleasant manner.

 “Was I screaming? I don’t…it was a nightmare. I think…I don’t…Emily, is she okay?” I demanded, jumping out of bed, my heart pounding so hard that it ached inside my chest.

 “She’s fine, she’s asleep… _was_ asleep, she probably isn’t any more with your screaming! That racket would wake the dead!” He hissed, rubbing his eyes. I pushed past him into the hallway, ignoring his protests, and ran to my sister’s room, wrenching the door open and racing to the bed. I threw the covers off to confirm what, in my heart, I already knew.

 “She’s gone, Emily’s gone!” I screamed, fear and panic conquering any common sense I might have had.

 “What do you mean, “ _gone_ ”?” My dad demanded, marching up the hall towards me.

 “What do you think I mean? She’s gone, she’s not here, she’s absent, she left, she’s AWOL, astray, _disappeared_ , there’s an Emily-shaped hole in her bed where Emily should be but she’s not, because she’s _gone_!” I rambled, frantically, pushing past him for a second time and making for the stairs. “I have to find her, I have to…”

 “What…and where do you think _you’re_ going, young lady?” He demanded, but turned to see me frozen at the top of the staircase, hand clutching my chest, eyes bulging wide. “Lauren?”

 I couldn’t move; couldn’t acknowledge him; couldn’t see anything but the flashing blue light illuminating the landing at the bottom of the stairs. Flashing blue light that spilled in through the window on the front door from the police car parked outside of my house. The police car that belonged to the policeman who was rapping on the door now; the policeman who had come to tell us what I already knew. I collapsed where I stood, unable to move from the top step. There were no more tears…I was too far gone to cry. I just sat there, watching as my father stepped over me and descended the staircase, unsteadily. He knew. Of course he knew. He didn’t know what I knew, hadn’t seen what I had seen, but he knew that something was very wrong. Irreparably wrong.

 I didn’t even hear what the policeman said, didn’t even look up when my mother joined them, didn’t feel a thing as I watched both of my parents holding each other, sobbing and wailing and breaking. I was catatonic. I stood up after an immeasurable amount of time and went back to bed. I closed my eyes, alone in the darkness. And then: then, I cried. I cried and cried until I was empty, until I had no more tears left, and then I cried some more. I cried for hours. I cried until it ached, until the ache numbed, and then ached again. I cried until it got dark, until I fell asleep and dreamed about her.

 When I woke up and saw that I had two missed calls from her, frantic hope clutched at my being, and I tried to call her back. Straight to voicemail. Voicemail…that triggered something in the back of my mind. I checked my messages…one new message…from Emily.

 At the age of eighteen, it sounds somewhat foolish to call myself a “scientist”, but I don’t mean I’m pottering about in a lab with test tubes, wearing a white coat and curing cancer. I’m scientifically-minded, always have been. I believe in earth and rocks and physics, not “The Force” or poltergeists or prophetic dreams or anything that might fall into the category of the supernatural. But, that said, I knew that my dream had been real just as sure as I knew that the Earth was round.

 The voicemail Emily left me; I had heard it before I ever picked up my phone. And I knew it wasn’t a case of filling in the blanks - I had listened to the voicemail and my mind had done the legwork and filled it into my memory of the dream – I knew it wasn’t that because I knew every word she was going to say before I listened to it. And that meant that the dream had been real. And if the dream had been real, then the implications of that were too much for me to process in my current frame of mind. But something had killed my sister. Some unseen force had sent her crashing to her death. Why? Of the two of us, Emily was always the softer one, the more popular one. We were identical twins, but only on the outside. Emily was the nicer one, the better one. Why would anybody want to hurt her? And how?

 I didn’t know, but I promised her then that I would find out. I listened to the message over and over until eventually, grief and exhaustion won over and sleep claimed me once more. I don’t remember dreaming.


	3. Funeral Voices

 Emily’s funeral was exactly one week after her death.

 I stayed in bed for five of those seven terrible days, until eventually I couldn’t stay in bed any longer for the sake of my sanity. Even the fact that I now feared for my sanity was an improvement – only a day before I wouldn’t have cared. In fact, I would have welcomed a breakdown. I wanted to rip my heart out to stop it from aching, that agonising, empty hurt. I wanted my mind to shut down, to stop thinking about her, picturing her, hearing her voice as it screamed my name in those last few desperate moments before she was gone.

 I didn’t tell anybody about the dream. I doubt anybody would have believed me if I had, but that wasn’t why I kept it to myself. I knew that what I had seen was real: I didn’t need anybody else to validate that. Maybe I should have said something. When the police told my parents that they believed my sister had taken her own life, maybe I should have corrected them. But would that have made it better? Would the truth help anybody right now? I wished to God that I hadn’t seen her last, terrified seconds as she struggled against…something. No, better that they think she was another tragic teen suicide. Better that they never have to deal with knowing she was murdered.

 I don’t remember much of the funeral. It was a closed casket, of course. It was always a closed casket when the body was so badly damaged. I doubted that she looked at all like my sister anymore. I shuddered to think about it as I walked down the aisle, trying to make my way to the front pew to be with my family, trying to ignore the muttering and the looks of curiosity and sadness from the congregation. I heard snippets of whispered conversation as I passed.

 “…looks just like her…”

 “…must be so hard for the family to see her every day…”

 “…so sad…her poor mother…”

 “…just can’t believe she killed herself…”

 I stopped, mid-stride, my hands balled into fists of their own accord. I shook with grief and anger, and opened my mouth to say something to the whisperers, but I had no words. I just shook my head and kept walking as the tears fell from my eyes, hot and wet and silent.

 The minister spoke for what felt like hours. He didn’t even know her. Emily was an atheist, she never went to church. I didn’t pay attention to anything he was saying, I wasn’t sure I could handle that right now: hearing about my sister’s life from a man who had never met her.

 I heard afterwards that it was a beautiful service. Whatever that means.

 Before heading to the cemetery, my mother, father and I were expected to stand by the doors of the church to thank those who had come to mourn, and receive their condolences in turn. It was just a blur of pitying eyes and trite words.

 “Sorry for your loss.”

 Sure. Thanks. Can I go now?

 “Lauren, I’m very sorry for your…” I recognised the voice of the local doctor and my eyes snapped up to meet his, taking him aback with my sudden change of demeanour.

 “Dr. Dash…Phillip…you performed Emily’s autopsy.”

 My mother whipped her head round and gave me a warning look, but I ignored her. Dr. Dash shifted uncomfortably and nodded, solemnly.

 “Er…yes, Lauren, I did. I am truly sorry for your-“

 “Did you find anything…unusual in her blood work?” I asked, cutting him off for a second time.

 “Lauren!” My dad hissed, quietly, throwing the doctor an apologetic look.

 “Ah…perhaps this isn’t the best time to discuss…”

 “What? So you _did_ find something?”

  He sighed, sadly, and shook his head.

 “No, Lauren.” He lowered his voice and glanced sadly at my parents. “There was nothing out of the ordinary.”

 “So…so maybe nothing showed up, but is there any way she could have taken something that maybe wouldn’t show up in a normal blood test? Was there anything unusual at all?” I asked, desperately.

 “Lauren, I know this must be extremely hard for you, given…given how close you and she were. But please believe me, if there was anything to find, I would have found it.” He assured me in that slow, gentle voice that doctors use when dealing with someone fragile.

 “But what if-“

 “Lauren, that is enough!” My dad yelled, and I whipped round to see that his face was scarlet with anger and embarrassment.

 “Please, stop it!” My mum cried, sobbing.

 “Are you happy now?” My dad growled, putting his arm around her. I looked around and saw that a crowd had gathered around us, watching our exchange with sad eyes.

 “I am…truly sorry for your loss.” Dr. Dash said, and I nodded.

 “Thank you, Doctor. I’m sorry too.” I said, and I meant it. I looked around at all of the faces watching me, pitying me. “My sister didn’t kill herself.” I insisted, and a few eyes lowered to the ground.

 My mum started weeping again and my father muttered something that I couldn’t hear, but it sounded like he was trying to be comforting. I sighed and strode past my mortified parents and out of the doors, fishing my car keys out of my coat pocket as I went.

 “Lauren…Lauren, wait!” My father jogged to catch up with me but I kept walking. “Lauren, where are you going? You can’t leave, we haven’t even buried her yet.”

 “Yes, you have.” I snapped. “She may not be in the ground yet, but you’ve buried her.”

 “What’s that supposed to mean?” He demanded, furiously. I stopped and whipped around to face him.

 “It’s like you’ve forgotten who she was! Em didn’t kill herself, Dad. She would _never_ do that, that is _absolutely_ not who she was. But you’re not even questioning it!” I knew it wasn’t his fault, but I was angry, and he was there. He seemed to calm down, which wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted a fight. But he wasn’t going to give me one. He sniffed, and ran a hand through his hair.

 “So…so do you think I should go back in there and harass the doctor until he tells me what I want to hear?” He asked, quietly. “I’m trying, Lauren, I really am. Do you think I want to believe that my little girl…took her own life?” His voice cracked on the last word and he shook his head, his eyes swimming with tears. “Your mum’s…she’s falling apart in there. I am trying to keep this family together, and I don’t think the best way of doing that is dwelling on the details. Emily’s gone. She’s gone, sweetheart. And I’m just trying to keep my head above water here.”

 I nodded, my anger still bubbling below the surface.

 “Okay, dad. You just…go back in there and keep treading water.” I held up my car keys and gave them a shook. “I’m going to go drown my sorrows. You can pick me up from the Southfield on the way home.”

 “You’re going to the pub instead of saying goodbye to your sister?” My dad asked, shaking his head. His disappointment was evident, and it stung, but I just didn’t care.

 “Who says I can’t do both at the same time?” I asked, shrugging, as I walked away from him. I knew that I looked like a petulant child, but it didn’t matter. Better he be angry with me than worried about me. Of course I wasn’t going to the _pub_. I had to find out what happened to Emily. And I only had one place to start. I had to go back to the scene of the crash, see if there was anything there that the police had missed. I couldn’t stay here; I couldn’t watch them lower her body into the ground. She wasn’t there any more, anyway. I was respecting her memory more by trying to figure out what had really happened to her.


	4. Spectres

 “ _…he’s a god, he’s a man, he’s a ghost, he’s a guru, they’re whispering his name through this disappearing land, but hidden in his coat is a red right hand…_ ”

 “That’s quite enough of that.” I muttered to myself, turning the radio off with a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold air blasting through the air-con. This road was unsettling enough without ominous background music. It only took a few seconds to realise that the silence was just as bad. It’s difficult to find a soundtrack that makes retracing your dead sister’s last steps any easier.

 I didn’t have to drive for long before I saw it. Even with the afternoon sun still high in the sky and birds chirping, it still made the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. It looked like something that had been plucked straight from the set of a horror movie, and it was just as black and twisted as it had looked in the twilight…just before Emily was slammed into it.

 I stopped my car a good distance before it. I didn’t expect the same thing to happen to me, but it just seemed like recklessness to risk it. For reasons that I’m still unsure of, I grabbed my handbag from the passenger seat before getting out of the car, and started walking slowly towards it. I almost turned back a few times, but then I thought of Emily and I kept walking, ignoring the alarm bells that were screaming in my head.

 Still, I approached the tree with caution, half-expecting it to go all “Whomping Willow” on me. I stood in front of it, looking up at the bare, twisted branches. It was a sunny day, but the tree wasn’t just black, I realised, it was dark. It was as though the sunlight couldn’t reach it somehow. Another shiver, another urge to turn around and run and never look back, but I knew that I couldn’t. I knew that if the tables were turned around, she wouldn’t leave me now. I couldn’t abandon her. But now that I was here, I felt a little foolish. What did I expect to find? It was just a tree. A spooky, Burton-esque tree, but a tree all the same.

 There were no answers here, only more pain. Hot tears of frustration coupled with grief pricked my eyes and I grunted in anger, turning away from it, but I couldn’t leave just yet. I wanted to, God knows I wanted to get the Hell out of there, but something was making me stay. I lowered myself to the ground and sat, looking up at the snaking branches, waiting for an answer to fall out of the sky like Newton’s apple.

 Of course, nothing happened. I sat there for a few minutes longer and sighed, standing up and brushing myself off. The sound of an approaching car caught my attention and I turned to see a green Fiesta driving slowly towards me. I recognised it as Seth Logan’s car, my sister’s ex-boyfriend. I frowned. They hated each other, but a quick scan of Facebook this morning told me that he had forgotten all about that and was playing the part of wounded lover. Idiot.

 As he got closer, I noticed that he wasn’t alone in the car, four of his friends were with him, and every one of them was gaping at me in what I can only describe as pure horror. They looked like they’d just seen a ghost. I narrowed my eyes and stared him down and he sped up instantly and zoomed past me like a bat out of Hell. I heard their screams even after they disappeared around the bend.

 “What…oh.” I started giggling, and then full-on laughing. I laughed until my ribs ached and tears streamed out of my eyes. They hadn’t seen me standing by a tree. They had seen the spitting image of my sister, dressed completely in black, haunting the site of her tragic death. It shouldn’t have been so funny, but I think I was a little hysterical at the time. I laughed until it stopped being funny, and then I was afraid I was going to start crying again. I righted myself and took a few deep, steadying breaths, trying to pull myself together. “Ooooh…okay…time to go.”

 I stopped and, on an impulse, planted a light kiss on my fingertips and reached out to touch the tree. “Goodbye, Em.” I whispered. As soon as my hand came into contact with the scaly bark, I was thrown backwards. I mean _literally_ thrown through the air like a rag-doll. I landed on my front with a thump on hard, mossy ground, winded from the impact.

 “What the fuck?” I tried to say, but I couldn’t get a breath. I turned around to look at the tree, but it was…gone. Or _I_ was gone, because the place where the tree should have stood was occupied by a small, primitive-looking hut. The road was gone, the fields were gone. I was in the middle of a forest. And then I realised. It had happened. I had lost my mind. I thought I had felt it slipping a few times over the last week, but this was on another level.

 I flipped myself onto my back and perched myself up unsteadily on my elbows. A shadow moved over me and blocked out the sunlight and I squinted up at the figure of a woman looming over me. A woman I recognised…quite impossibly.

 “You…” It came out like an accusation, though I had meant it more incredulously than accusingly.

 “Mother!” She called to the hut, folding her arms. “We have a guest.”

 And that was it. My mind had reached it's limit, and I slumped back on the moss, letting go of consciousness…if that’s what it was at all.


	5. Witch of the Wilds

I woke up slowly, squinting in the harsh sunlight that was streaming through my bedroom window. My mum must have been in my room to open the curtains while I was asleep – I had kept them drawn for the last week. I tugged my pillow out from behind my head, pulled it over my face and let out a low groan. My head pounded as though I had sank two bottles of wine the night before. Had I? I struggled to remember. I left the funeral – shit, I left the funeral. No - I caused a scene, yelled at my dad, and _then_ left the funeral. I was going to have to deal with my parents over that at some point. I left the funeral and drove to the tree. And then I left and went…where? Did I go to the pub after all? It would certainly explain why my head was all cotton wool and why I had no memory of going to bed.

Wait…when _did_ I leave the tree? I couldn't remember ever getting back into my car.

"So! You are awake, at long last." I froze mid-thought at the sound of a voice that was both foreign and familiar, a voice that triggered something in my memory and the events of the previous day came flooding back. "Tis almost noon. Or were you planning on sleeping the whole day?"

I pulled the pillow tighter over my face, screwing my eyes shut and refusing to believe that this was happening. Still, there was a small, insane part of me that wasn't completely in denial.

"Morrigan?" My voice came out tiny, muffled by the pillow, but I knew she heard me.

"That is my name, though I do not remember introducing myself whilst you were lying on the ground, unconscious." Her words posed a question, but I had too many of my own right now, I wasn't going to start explaining myself to a product of my mental breakdown. Oh yeah, I was still there, believing that I had simply lost my mind. If only.

I let out a shrill, nervous laugh, keeping the pillow firmly over my face.

"Did I miss something amusing? Or are you simply a fool?" Her tone was still light, but I thought I detected a hint of impatience there. I laughed harder, and she sighed, irritably. Footsteps approached from outside and a door creaked open.

"She is awake." There was no mistaking Flemeth's distinctive rasp. I was laughing hysterically now, I couldn't stop. "And the better for it, I see."

"Hardly. I think she must have landed on her head harder than we thought." Morrigan drawled.

"She is simply in shock. It will pass." Flemeth's footsteps approached the bed. "She has travelled a long way to get here."

I stopped laughing abruptly when the pillow was torn from my grasp with more force than I had been prepared for, and I sat up with a start, finding myself eye to fierce, yellow eye with Flemeth. I inhaled, sharply. If my mind was creating these visions, it was doing a damn good job of it. Before I had time to process anything further, a mug of sweet-smelling…something, was thrust into my hands.

"Drink this, child. It will help to clear your mind."

"I don't-"

"Drink." She insisted.

"But I-"

"Drink." Her voice hardened and I raised the mug to my mouth, obediently. The liquid was viscous and sweet, but not unpleasant. I drank almost half of it before a voice in my head piped up that I was drinking something that had been handed to me by a known abomination, and I choked on the syrup and lowered the mug, coughing and spluttering.

"Better?" Flemeth asked, in a sickly sweet voice that chilled me to the bone. I opened my mouth to respond when a warm sensation spread through my limbs, relaxing the muscles. At the same time, it felt as though my mind had been plunged into a bucket of cool water. I gritted my teeth at the peculiar sensation, but once it passed I found that my mind was, in fact, clearer. I blinked up at the maleficar standing before me.

"Yes." I replied, my surprise evident. "What was that?"

"Essence of Elfroot…among other things, it matters not. What is your name, traveller?" She asked, her amber eyes probing my face.

"Lauren Duval." I replied, glancing at Morrigan who was skulking in the corner of the room, eyeing me with a look of deep mistrust.

"You are a long way from home, Lauren." It wasn't a question. "You are not of this world. And yet, you know me, and you know Morrigan…do you not?"

I nodded. What did I have to lose? If this was real, which I still wasn't convinced of, although the concoction that Flemeth had given me had alleviated some of my doubt, I may as well be honest. I knew better than to lie to the Witch of the Wilds.

"I do…it's difficult to explain how." I finished, lamely. Somehow, I didn't think _'You're characters from a_ videogame _, and I killed you this one time'_ would go over very well.

"Yes, I imagine it would be. Tell me, Lauren…what do you know of me?"

_Just that you're a shape-shifting abomination possessed by an Elven God who plans to claim your daughter's body for your own._

"You're Flemeth, known to the people of Ferelden as the Witch of the Wilds; known to the Elvhen as Asha'bellanar; and, to the unfortunate, as 'what's that big purple thing flying towards us?'." Flemeth laughed, heartily, throwing her head back. Morrigan's face remained passive, although she raised an eyebrow, suspiciously, when I caught her eye. "I also know that you know a great deal more than you let on."

The mirth left Flemeth's eyes and was replaced by a look of steel.

"A trait that you and I share, I have no doubt." She replied.

"Yeah, well…everybody has secrets." I said, quietly, holding her gaze despite my instinct to look away from those fierce eyes. "But I won't upset the balance of this world by running my mouth off about things that are better left unsaid. I just want to get home."

And I meant it. I had spent hours upon hours immersed in the world of Thedas, wishing I was really here, fighting with the Grey Wardens to defeat the Blight. But now that I was here, all I wanted was to wake up in my own bed, content that this was all just a crazy dream. But Flemeth shook her head.

"I am afraid your home is out of reach…for now. You travelled here through a tear in the Veil…your arrival caused a great deal of disturbance among the darker forces of this world, and the world beyond. The tear has been repaired. You cannot go back the way you came, because that way no longer exists."

It took a few seconds for her words to sink in, and I shook my head in disbelief.

"But…you're Flemeth!" I exclaimed. "Can't you just tear another hole in the Veil and send me back?"

"I cannot. The path that you travelled to get here was created by powerful forces, the likes of which are beyond even me. Your being here is not the work of any mortal. Nor is it an accident. You have been chosen, and until you fulfil your purpose here, here is where you shall remain."

"Chosen? Powerful forces? That's such a _lame_ plot device. I mean, _really_? I don't…I-I-I'm not…chosen to do what, exactly?" I stammered, frowning.

"Well, I should think that is quite apparent. You have been chosen to put an end to the Blight that threatens Ferelden." She said, with an air of someone who was explaining something painfully obvious to a five-year-old with ADHD. I laughed, and she narrowed her eyes.

"Chosen to stop the _Blight_?" My voice came out much higher than usual. "I can't even lift a sword, let _alone_ slay Darkspawn, never _mind_ the Archdemon. I don't have any special powers or abilities…Grey Wardens stop blights, and I'm no Warden." I insisted, folding my arms, stubbornly.

"Well then, it seems you know what you must do. The Grey Wardens are gathered in the ruins of Ostagar. You must go to them." She said; in the tone that my mum used when telling me to pop down to the shop to buy milk. I gawked at her. I knew that Flemeth was a little unhinged, but she had to be joking.

"Hell. No. I'm going nowhere _near_ Ostagar. You know what's going to happen there just as well as I do." I didn't mean it to sound like an accusation, but my emotions weren't exactly in check at that particular moment in time.

"So what do you intend to do? If you plan to outrun the horde, then I fear I have credited you with more intelligence than you possess."

"I can try. I have to find a way to get home. If I have to wait until the Wardens kill the Archdemon before that can happen, then I will. I'll…I'll get a horse, make my way to Gwaren, catch a ship to Kirkwall, have a cold pint at the Hanged Man and wait for all this to blow over."

"And do you think it will be that simple?" Flemeth asked, her eyes glittering in amusement. I shrugged.

"Probably not. But it's a better plan than going to Ostagar to fight Darkspawn. I've never been in a fight in my life, I can't even throw a punch. It would be suicide."

I stood up and strode to the door, grabbing my black, high-heeled court shoes from the foot of the bed as I went.

"I see." Flemeth followed me, standing in the doorway as I stepped into my shoes, strode forward into the clearing and looked around, trying to get my bearings. "Well, then I wish you luck, Lauren Duval."

I turned around to face her, nodding in acknowledgment.

"Thanks. You too." I looked around her to where Morrigan stood, uncharacteristically silent and observant. "And you, Morrigan. You're going to need it." I said the last part to myself as I continued to scan my surroundings.

"Oh…there is just…one more thing." Flemeth drawled, innocently.

"What's that?" I asked, suspiciously.

She didn't answer. Instead, she moved faster than I would have expected a woman of her age could, maleficar or no, expertly throwing a small, silver dagger through the air, right towards my face. I closed my eyes, recoiling, waiting for the pain, but it didn't come. I opened my eyes slowly, cautiously, and inhaled sharply as I realised what had happened. The pain did not come because the blade never found its target. The tip of the knife was hovering between my eyes, a hair's-breadth from my face, held in place by…me. I had caught it, without realising I had even moved to do so. I lowered the weapon and glared at Flemeth.

"You threw a knife at my head!" I screamed, outraged.

"And you caught it." She replied, simply.

"You threw a _knife_ …at my _head_." I repeated. "That's just…I mean, what did you…I…I caught it."

I dropped the knife like it was a poisonous spider and backed away from it, staring at my hands.

"I caught it…what sorcery is this?" I demanded, incredulous.

"I told you. You have been chosen. Do you think a being with power enough to bring you here would be careless enough to choose a saviour who could not fight? That is a ridiculous notion."

"Yes… _that_ is ridiculous." Sarcasm is often my first line of defence. "I'm still not going to Ostagar. Catching one dagger and fighting a horde of Darkspawn are two very different things."

"You have been given a gift! Do not squander it." She stormed, angrily. "If you leave Ferelden, the Grey Wardens will fail, Ferelden will be lost and you will remain trapped in Thedas until the end of your days."

Flemeth was an unsettling character. Angry Flemeth was positively terrifying. And her words jolted me. If I fled, I might make it to Kirkwall…but then what? If she was right, and the Grey Wardens needed me for some unfathomable reason, then running away would mean the downfall of an entire nation. The Blight would destroy everything. But if I stayed…I was still shaken from the revelation that I could catch flying daggers without trying, but could I really do this? Become a warrior…a Grey Warden? I felt sick at the thought.

I bent double, clutching my sides.

"Shit. _Shit!_ I need to think." I said, breathing deeply.

"Well do not take too long. The horde marches ever onward." Morrigan warned, in a sing-song voice.

Okay, so as far as I could see I had two options…no, I had three options. I could run – although that seemed less and less appealing by the second. I could go to Ostagar, find the Grey Wardens, attempt to impress them with fighting skills that I still wasn't sure I possessed and join their order.

Option three: I could go to Ostagar, find Duncan and try to warn him of Loghain's betrayal before it happened. At the very least, I might be able to save some lives.

"Okay. I'll do it." I sighed, drawing myself up. "I'll go to Ostagar."


	6. Guided

"Morrigan will escort you to Ostagar." Flemeth declared once I was back inside the hut. "It is not a long walk, but it is a perilous one."

" _I_ will escort her?" Morrigan asked, clearly annoyed with the whole situation. I could hardly blame her: she was probably just having a quiet day, doing…whatever the Hell Morrigan did, and I showed up out of nowhere, slept in her bed and now she had been roped into being a Wilds tour guide. I smirked, picking up my handbag from the side of the bed I had slept in and slinging it over my shoulder.

"Don't argue, girl." Flemeth snapped, and the steel in Morrigan's eyes softened.

"Very well, I will take you." Morrigan sighed. "Your attire is not exactly appropriate should we encounter any Darkspawn on our journey. Do you even possess a weapon?" She asked, trailing her eyes over me appraisingly. I smoothed down the skirt of my black, bodycon dress, thoughtfully. It had been Emily's favourite dress of mine, and I wore it to the funeral because I thought she would approve or something. She had borrowed it countless times – one of the perks of being an identical twin was that you automatically doubled your wardrobe. She had worn it more than I had. It still smelled of her.

"It was my sister's favourite…" I said, mostly to myself. "It'll have to do for now, anyway. Hopefully someone at Ostagar can hook me up with some armour, but this is all I have with me. And I don't have a weapon because there's no sword-compartment in the Mulberry shoulder bag. It's a major design flaw, obviously, and they'll be receiving a strongly-worded letter from me when I get back home. Guess you'll just have to pick up my slack." I said, locking eyes with her, challengingly. She might have been a powerful apostate, but I had gone to an all-girls school for six years: if she wanted to have a bitch-off, she was going to lose.

Flemeth strode to the back of the hut, tossing aside a red, velvet throw to reveal a large wooden chest. She bent over it and pulled out a long sword, which she held out to me. The sheath was adorned with intricate carvings which flowed seamlessly onto the wrought iron hilt. It was quite beautiful, but looked incredibly old.

"Take this with you, Lauren Duval. I have no need of it." She said simply, as I took the sword in my hands. It wasn't as heavy as I had anticipated it to be and I unsheathed it, slowly, balancing it in my hand. I swung it through the air a few times, to test the balance of it and nodded, sheathing it and swinging it over my shoulder, tightening the leather strap to hold it in place. I reached behind me and felt for the pommel, to check that the positioning of it allowed for quick access. Satisfied, I nodded in gratitude.

"Thank you, Flemeth. I still don't know why you're doing all of this for me." I admitted, frowning. She threw her head back and cackled.

"Before this day is over, you will be on your way to repaying me. Do not doubt that." And I didn't. If I knew anything about Flemeth, it was that she always got her way. Even when Morrigan had sent the Warden to kill her, she had still found a way to live on: she had a plan, I was sure, and I was just another chess piece on her board. I knew this, but there was little I could do about it. I was here now, and I had no choice but to go to Ostagar – just as she had wanted.

"Very well…come on, then." Morrigan sighed, impatiently, striding out of the hut into the clearing. With a final nod to Flemeth, I turned and followed her with a knot of apprehension forming in the pit of my stomach. I wasn't sure what unnerved me more: the threat of Darkspawn and Wilder creatures or the prospect of one-on-one conversation with Morrigan.

As soon as she saw me emerge from the hut, she wheeled around and started striding towards the tree-line, and I jogged to catch up with her, cursing that the decision to wear a dress and heels to Em's funeral had won out over my initial desire to slum it in jeans and converse.

I caught up with her just in time for her to surge ahead of me again, weaving through trees, following some unmarked path that only she knew. I trotted along behind her, tripping and stumbling over gnarled roots and loose rocks, certain that I wouldn't make it to Ostagar without breaking an ankle. Wet grass and marsh slapped at my bare legs as I walked, making my skin crawl and itch and I forced myself to resist the urge to stop and wipe the awful moisture off, aware that Morrigan probably wouldn't stop to wait for me.

A horrible thought crept into my mind as I looked around at the labyrinth of trees surrounding me. We had been walking for almost ten minutes in silence, ducking and weaving and frequently changing direction. If Morrigan disappeared on me, I would be completely, hopelessly lost. I wondered how long a person could wander in this place before finding a clear path to civilisation. The forest was so thick and dense that it blocked out all sunlight, though it couldn't have been later than two in the afternoon. If Morrigan decided that she didn't want to help me after all, I could spend the rest of my life lost in this place.

This thought spurred me on, and a wave of adrenaline carried me faster along the invisible path so that I was right on her heel.

"Hey, Morrigan? Do you think you could slow down a little?" I asked, panting slightly. She stopped walking so suddenly that I almost slammed into her back, and the movement threw me off-balance. She wheeled around to face me, her eyes glinting fiercely in the darkness, and I wobbled on one leg, trying to regain my footing.

"You wish to slow down? Does this pace tire you?" She asked, in a dangerously sweet voice.

"No, it doesn't _tire_ me, but I have no idea where we're going. And these shoes weren't exactly designed for hiking through forests." I pointed out, trying not to sound as pissed-off as I felt.

"I'm not exactly sure _what_ those shoes were designed to do." She replied, studying my black high-heels with obvious distaste. I momentarily forgot my precarious situation and narrowed my eyes. You can insult me all you like, but leave the shoes out of it.

"These are Christian LouBoutins. They were designed to be fabulous. If I had thought that I would be spending my day in the Wilds of Ferelden, I would probably have worn something a little more practical. Despite your obvious belief that I'm an imbecile, I do actually have a brain in my head. This…" I gestured at our surroundings, "Was not in my schedule."

Morrigan smirked, but the gleam in her eyes was one of amusement rather than disdain, and she cocked her head to the side.

"You are strange." She observed, though it didn't sound like an insult. "Come then. I shall try to move at a more agreeable pace for you."

We started walking again, only this time we walked side-by-side, and it was more of a casual stroll than a race. After a few minutes, the trees seemed to thin out a little, and a few brave rays of sunlight pierced the canopy, basking the forest floor in a dusky light.

"Where are you from, Lauren Duval?" She asked, suddenly, surveying me with a spark of what seemed like genuine interest.

I chewed my lip. What could I say? I was from somewhere over the rainbow? Through the looking-glass? I had fallen down the rabbit-hole, taken the red pill, hopped on the Hogwart's express and stepped through a wardrobe into the Tardis? My own theories didn't make a whole lot more sense than any of that.

"I'm from a place called Scotland." I decided that the easy answer was the only one I had right now.

"That is the name of your world?" She asked, casually, as if the idea that there were different worlds out there was nothing new to her.

"My country. I'm not sure where my world is, in relation to here. I _thought_ I knew but now…" I trailed off, unsure of how to finish.

_Oh, you just turn left at Big Ben, second star to the right and straight on 'till morning, you can't miss it._

"How did you come to be here? I heard what my mother said. A tear in the veil…that is all fine and well, but a tear that large does not simply happen by accident. Powerful magics were involved…and yet _you_ are no mage."

"Nope. I'm still waiting for my letter from Hogwarts." I agreed, and she frowned in confusion but let the comment pass. "I don't really know. I think it might have something to do with my sister." I admitted, voicing the theory that had been nagging at the back of my mind all day.

"Your sister? _She_ is a mage?" She asked. I shook my head.

"No, Emily was…just a normal girl." I said, quietly, uncomfortable with describing my sister as normal…such an ugly word. The truth was she was great. She was _special_ …but in supernatural terms, she was a muggle through-and-through.

"Was?" She asked, curiously, her eyes flicking over my face.

"Ah…you picked up on that." I muttered, kicking a stone out of my path. "Yeah, she…she passed away recently…a week ago, in fact." I sighed, wondering whether or not I could tell Morrigan the rest. I decided that I had nothing to lose. "I think she was killed. There was something…some force that controlled her, lead her to her death. I haven't…nobody in my world knows that. They think she took her own life. I knew, because I saw it happen in a…in a dream." I finished, lamely.

"And you did not tell anyone?" She asked, frowning.

"Nah…things like that, they don't really happen in my world. We don't have magic, or the Fade, or Darkspawn…any of it. Even if I had told anybody, they would never have believed me." I cleared my throat, blinking back tears. "I haven't told anybody, until now."

She was silent for a while, obviously deep in thought.

"So…you say you have no magic…no _Fade_ …" She shook her head as if she found the idea absurd, and continued, "…and yet you witnessed your sister's death in a vision? How? If there is no Fade in your world, how is that possible?"

"It's not." I admitted, shaking my head. "But it happened. I don't know…we don't have a Fade, but there are some people in my world who do believe in supernatural phenomena…visions, ghosts, near-death-experiences. Until a week ago I would have face-palmed if someone had tried to convince me that any of that stuff was actually _real_. But a lot of people believe that there's some deep, spiritual, psychic connection that twins share. Maybe it has something to do with that, although I have to admit that nothing like that had ever happened between Emily and I before."

"Twins." Morrigan repeated under her breath, her brow furrowing in thought.

"Yeah. We're identical twins. So maybe it's a good thing I landed in Ferelden, I know it was killing my parents to have to look at me every day. I'm a living reminder of what they've lost." I muttered, bitterly. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I hadn't realised that Morrigan had stopped walking. I looked round at her, questioningly. It was difficult to tell in the half-light of the forest, but I thought that her face looked, if possible, even paler than usual.

She was studying me with a look that might have been horror, and I was suddenly reminded of Seth Logan's face the day before when he'd seen me standing by that tree: like he'd seen something utterly impossible…something that had terrified him out of his wits.

"What?" I asked, frowning with unease. She opened her mouth to answer, but the sound of yelling and the unmistakable clash of steel on steel cut her reply short and we whipped around in unison, trying to locate the sound of the commotion. I reached behind me, unsheathing my sword and gripping it tightly in both hands, sinking into a defensive stance that felt more natural than breathing. I glanced at her warily, silently asking what we should do.

"There is trouble ahead." She muttered, more to herself than to me. "Keep your wits about you."


	7. First Cut

As soon as we burst through the trees, I realised that I knew where I was. I had seen this place – we couldn't have been more than a hundred yards from the entrance to the camp at Ostagar.

The men in the clearing were standing in a defensive circle, their backs to each other, crouching in ready combat positions, with the corpses of two Darkspawn lying at their feet. The man facing Morrigan and I straightened in surprise when he saw us and opened his mouth to say something, probably to call a warning, but before he could there was a blood-curdling screech and we turned towards the noise in unison. A Hurlock charged towards us from the shadow of the trees, closely followed by another, larger one, accompanied by a group of seven Genlock.

My heart almost stopped when the first Darkspawn came into view. There are no graphics known to man that could accurately depict the true hideousness of it: even the way it moved reeked of cruelty. It's dark eyes glinted like pools of black tar, it's face twisted into a horrifying smile as it advanced upon the three men in the clearing.

For a moment, I was frozen in fear, but as they approached I managed to snap myself out of it and I whipped around, looking to Morrigan for guidance, only to see that she had vanished back into the trees. I cursed under my breath and turned back just in time to see a blade slashing towards my face. I yelped and took a half-step backwards, the sword in my hand rising almost of it's own volition to block and the Hurlock's blade bounced violently off of mine, sending it stumbling backwards. Through my fear and shock, instinct seemed to take over and I took the opportunity to advance on the beast while it was still off-balance and followed immediately with a swift jab to it's stomach. It screeched as I felt my sword pierce through it's armour and sink deep into it's flesh. I gagged at the stench of it's foul breath in my face and I retracted my blade quickly, recoiling from the creature in horror as it crumpled to the ground and lay there, still.

I bent double, panting in sheer terror, but the sound of on-going fighting prevented me from reflecting too much on what had just happened. I looked up to see that the three men battling the remaining Darkspawn weren't doing too well. One of them was locked in one-on-one combat with the largest of the Hurlocks, while the other two slashed and parried and blocked arrows with their shields, but the only Darkspawn that had fallen so far was the one I had killed.

I turned to see two of the Genlocks hanging back from the main battle, taking aim with their bows. They didn't seem to notice me, or they decided that of the four of us that remained, I was the least threat. I couldn't help but agree with them, but the men were struggling to fight with the archers pinning them down.

My brain was working at a hundred miles a minute, and seemed to be running on two different levels. The dominant voice in my head, the one that I recognised, was reeling in shock and terror, and was mostly just screaming expletives at me. But the other half of my brain was working like it never had before, calculating distances and gauging battle opportunities. My eyes were taking in everything and I realised that I could see exactly what needed to be done. Those archers would have to go if the men stood any chance of a fair fight.

Forcing myself not to gag, I crouched by the body of the Hurlock I had slain and retrieved the rusted sword from it's hand. Even in death it's grip was like iron, but I managed to wrench the sword free, inadvertently nicking my fingertip on the dark blade in the process. I swore under my breath and rose to face the archers. I couldn't really explain why, but holding two blades instead of one made me feel a little more confident. It just felt right.

As I made my advance towards the Genlocks, I realised that all of the in-game references to Darkspawn not being very bright wasn't just smack-talk: they really weren't very good strategists. Rather than taking it in turns to fire and reload, they were firing as one, which meant that they were both incapacitated for a good few seconds as they nocked another arrow in their bows. That gave me the opportunity I needed, and I skirted around the battle towards them, keeping close to the tree-line to remain unnoticed. It was surprisingly easy to flank them, and I thanked my lucky stars that they clearly had the brains of Gavin Grieve.

I crept up behind them and waited until they'd loosed their arrows before making my presence known.

"Hey!" I yelled, and they turned around, reaching for their quivers, but as they turned I slashed downwards with both swords, ripping through their light armour and slicing them from chest to navel. They fell as one, and I felt a surge of confidence as I realised that Flemeth had been right. Whoever or whatever had sent me here hadn't sent me alone: they had, somehow, given me battle-skills and reflexes that I was certain I never had before: not that I had been in many sword fights in my life, but that's beside the point. And it didn't feel like the same force that had crashed Emily's car into that tree, either. It was me: I was doing these things, exactly as I imagined I could, but it was as if I had been through years of rigorous training and my body just knew what to do. Somehow, whatever force had brought me to Ferelden had turned me into a warrior: Matrix-style.

Now my question was: if you die in Ferelden, do you die in real life? _Only one way to find out_ , I thought, grimly. I spun the swords through the air a couple of times to test my theory and, I'm not going to lie, because it looked pretty bad-ass, and advanced on the remaining Darkspawn. There were only three Genlocks left now, but the Hurlock was still standing. One of the Genlocks barrelled towards me as I approached and thrust it's sword towards my chest. I parried with one hand and jabbed with the other, and it's screech became a wet gurgle as I twisted the blade from it's body and let it fall, limp and lifeless, to the forest floor.

Now the odds had swung in our favour, with only three Darkspawn to four of us. The Genlocks were retreating slightly as two of the men attacked with renewed force as they realised that they now had the upper-hand. The Hurlock was the biggest threat, the man facing him was wearying and his movements had grown sloppy as the beast beat relentlessly against his shield, sending him to his knees.

As the Hurlock lifted his massive arm to deliver what would surely be the killing blow, I darted in front of his blade, crossing my swords above my head to block the strike. It blinked down at me in confusion and bellowed with rage, but I wasn't scared anymore. In truth, I was actually starting to enjoy the thrill of fighting. I was inexplicably good at it: the feeling reminded me, oddly, of the first time I picked up a guitar and found that I had natural talent for it. This was a different instrument, and a different kind of music, but the result was the same: I felt like a rock star.

I grunted and pushed upwards with both arms, sending it staggering backwards, and I lunged forwards before it could recover it's footing and spun my swords, plunging them both deep into it's wide chest, burying them to the hilt in it's grey flesh. It screeched and wheezed, pitifully, and I felt a wave of guilt which I quickly brushed aside as I kicked it's stomach, pushing it clean of my blades to fall in a crumpled heap on the bloody ground. I took a step backwards and looked for more Darkspawn, but the Genlocks had fallen already and the three men stood, panting, watching me with curious expressions. I thrust the Darkspawn blade into the ground and bent to wipe my own blade clean on the grass before sheathing it.

"Well, that was fun!" I grinned, striding towards them. I barely noticed their exchange of confused looks; I was on such a high. I couldn't quite believe what I had just done. I had actually fought and killed Darkspawn.

"Uh…you have my thanks, miss." The man I had saved from the Hurlock was the first to find his voice, and he removed his helmet and offered his hand to me. I reached out to shake it but he took me by surprise when he bowed his head and planted a kiss on my hand. How continental.

"It was nothing." I grinned, trying and failing to sound nonchalant about the whole thing.

"My name is Judd, and this is Kale and Carson." He said, gesturing to the other men who nodded in way of greeting. Judd was obviously the ranking officer. Now that the Darkspawn were dealt with and I had a chance to look at them all properly, I could see that Kale and Carson were young, probably only a few years older than me, and Judd, with his salt-and-pepper beard, was several years their senior. "We are soldiers in the King's army."

"I'm Lauren. It's nice to meet you." I replied, wondering if I should curtsey or something, but decided against it.

"What are you doing out here, in the Wilds? You don't look Chasind. Then again…you don't really look like anyone else I've ever seen." Judd scratched his beard, uncertainly.

"I'm on my way to Ostagar." I replied. I didn't see any point in lying to them. Judd and Carson exchanged significant looks, but Kale frowned at me.

"What for?" He asked, eyeing me curiously.

"Sight-seeing." I replied, straight-faced. "I hear those ruins are really something."

"Sight-seeing?" He asked, incredulously. Carson stuck an elbow in his ribs.

"She was being sarcastic, Kale." He muttered, rolling his eyes in exasperation before focusing on me. "You've come to fight?"

"Ah…no, not so much. I've come to speak to someone."

It might have been my imagination, but I thought Judd looked a little disappointed.

"Right. Well, we shall escort you back to the fortress." He said, nodding to the other men, and we started walking the all-too-familiar track back to Ostagar. "Your clothes are unusual. Where did you say you were from?" He asked as we walked.

"I didn't." I replied, keeping my tone light. "I'm not from around here."

"Yes...your accent: you're from Starkhaven?"

Starkhaven. Brilliant! Why hadn't I thought of that? Oh right, because my brain had been on lock-down for the last few hours.

"Uh huh. Starkhaven." I agreed, smiling. He nodded, slowly, but said nothing. I knew from experience that I wasn't a very convincing liar. I guessed the trick was to keep the lies short and simple: I supposed that it was a lot more believable than the truth, at any rate. We walked in silence the rest of the way, and I was grateful that they didn't ask me anymore questions, although from the frequent glances they gave me, I guessed that there was plenty that they wanted to ask but obviously didn't want to offend me. Thank God that chivalry wasn't dead in this world.

We reached the tall, rough-wooden gates and they swung open as the guard on duty greeted the men. We passed through and I flashed a smile at the gate-keeper as he looked me up and down, a dumbstruck expression on his face. I suspected that I was going to be seeing a lot of confused faces. I really needed to get changed out of that stupid dress. The last thing I wanted was to draw unnecessary attention to myself, and until I swapped the cocktail dress and stilettos for something a little more inconspicuous, unnecessary attention was all I was going to get.

I was just about to ask Judd for directions to the armoury when I caught sight of someone I recognised. Striding with purpose through the masses of soldiers and mages who were mulling around the campsite, was Duncan.

And he was heading right for me.


	8. The Reluctant Recruit

As Duncan approached, I frantically tried to think of what I was going to say to him. How was I going to explain to him how I knew of Loghain's betrayal before it had even happened? This was not a very well thought-out plan. But still, I knew I had to say something. But before I had even begun to form a coherent sentence in my brain, he was upon us.

"Duncan." Judd greeted, with a wide smile, shaking his hand enthusiastically. "So you are back from Highever, then? All is well, I hope?"

I breathed an audible sigh of relief when I realised that it wasn't me that Duncan had come for. It was Judd. Duncan's gaze flickered over me, curiously, and I puffed out my cheeks, looking around with what I hoped was an innocent expression on my slowly reddening face, but which probably made me look as guilty as sin.

"I'm afraid not, Ser Judd." Duncan replied, his voice deep with regret. "Arl Howe has revealed himself as a traitor. His soldiers descended upon the castle the night I arrived there."

Judd was visibly taken aback by this, his face greying as Duncan spoke.

"Maker save us." He gasped. "And…the Teyrn?"

"The Teyrn and Teyrna were murdered." He said, sympathetically, clapping a hand on the other man's shoulder. "I am sorry. I know you knew Bryce and Eleanor for many years."

"He was a good man. A good man. He did not deserve to fall to such treachery." I didn't know where to look. This was all so real. Judd looked devastated. I didn't know what I had expected, but I certainly wasn't prepared for this. I glanced over at the younger men, and they seemed to be as bewildered and unsure of the situation as I felt.

"Arl Howe will pay for his crimes. But right now, we must try to lay thoughts of vengeance aside. The Horde will be upon us soon enough." Duncan said, his sympathetic tone taking on a businesslike edge.

Judd nodded.

"Of course. Of course. We just had a bit of a run-in with a few Darkspawn stragglers, ourselves." He replied, still looking crestfallen, but trying to sound upbeat. "I might not be here to tell you myself if wasn't for this young lady." He turned his body towards me slightly and, with a start, I realised that he and Duncan were looking at me.

"Really?" Duncan asked, studying me. I blushed under the scrutiny of his piercing eyes, and shook my head, blustering.

"Oh! It was nothing. Really, I just…"

"Nonsense!" Judd smiled. "She's quite the little fighter. Didn't expect it from a girl of her years, I must say. I was impressed."

Even through my embarrassment, I couldn't help but feel a little patronised. But I knew that he meant well. Determined to change the subject, and because I was curious as to how the events in this timeline were unfolding, I fixed my gaze on Duncan.

"I'm sorry, terribly sorry about the Couslands, but I must ask…were there any survivors?" Judd whipped his head round to look at Duncan, the hope in his eyes clear to see. To my lasting relief, Duncan nodded.

"The Teyrn's eldest son left with his men before the attack. The youngest arrived here with me. He is my latest recruit."

I nodded.

"Good. That's good. Thank Christ for small mercies, eh?" The men looked at me, oddly, and I realised my mistake. "Uh…thank The Maker, that is." I mumbled.

"So, you got your recruit. That's good news, at least." Judd offered. "And a fine young lad he is, too. Duncan is a Grey Warden." He explained to me. I nodded, and forced myself to look surprised. "Well, if you're looking for any more recruits, look no further than this one here. I've never seen anyone take down Darkspawn like she did."

I laughed, making it clear that I found that notion hilarious. I would not, under any circumstances, become a Grey Warden. I felt uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was headed in, until Duncan smiled.

"I'm sure you would make an excellent candidate, miss…?"

"Duval. Lauren Duval." Bond. James Bond.

"Miss Duval. We are always looking for new recruits." He didn't seem to want to press the matter, though, so I smiled politely.

"Uh…yeah, I'll….definitely think about it." I lied.

"I must bid you all farewell, I am afraid. I have three new recruits to prepare and very little time in which to do it. Judd," They shook hands, and he turned to the other two men, inclining his head politely and shaking each of their hands in turn. "Miss Duval," He turned to me and extended his hand, "It was a pleasure to meet you. And do think about my offer. I have known Judd for many years. He is not a man who is easily impressed so, I must say, I am intrigued." I grinned, shaking his hand. He nodded once more and turned to leave, but he had taken only half a step when he turned back, reaching for my hand which was now back by my side.

"Hey!" I called out, instinctively pulling my hand away. I looked up at him and noticed the lines on his weathered brow were furrowed with concern. "What…?"

"Your hand. You are bleeding." He said, urgently. I stifled a laugh.

"Oh, I'll survive." I replied, cringing, and throwing Judd a look that said "overreact, much?", but Judd was frowning down at my hand as well, looking as crestfallen as he had done when Duncan had delivered the news of his old friend's death.

What was their problem? I had survived my first fight with Darkspawn with the smallest of cuts on my finger. Their concern seemed ridiculous: until I looked down at my hand. Thick black ooze mingled with my own red blood: arterial spray from my killing blow to the last Hurlock had covered my hands.

"The taint..." I whispered, shaking my head in disbelief. I looked up at the men who were watching me with solemn expressions, like I was a dead girl walking. "No…it's fine, I feel fine." I insisted, shaking my head in denial.

"You will not feel its effects yet." Duncan spoke slowly, calmly, as though he had delivered the same speech to countless others before me. "But even now, the taint courses through your blood. It is…a death sentence, messere. The only known cure is to…"

"…become a Grey Warden." I finished for him, rolling my eyes. "Oh, well, fancy that! I knew, I knew something stupid like this would happen. Flemeth just always gets her way in the end, doesn't she?" I said this last part to myself, too angry to care about the strange looks they were all giving me. My brain was screaming at me as everything that I knew about Grey Wardens flashed through my mind: the thirty year expiry date, the nightmares, the unfavourable odds of even surviving the Joining ritual in the first place…but without it, I was dead anyway. Trapped between a rock and a hard place, I made my decision, and prayed that I wouldn't regret it. I sighed, pouting huffily up at Duncan. "Well, if that offer of recruitment still stands…I would very much like to not die, please."


	9. Dear Diary

_Dear diary. I don't know where to start with the back-story, so I won't bother with that right now. If anybody finds this, in this world or, assuming I_ ever _get back home, in the real world, you're just going to have to try and keep up. So, basically, things haven't exactly gone to plan since I arrived in Ferelden. Arriving in Ferelden in the first place wasn't the plan, so I don't know why I expected that I would have any control over what's going to happen while I'm here. Maybe it really is like the game, where the decisions I make will only affect so much, but certain things are going to happen regardless. Like right now, for example. Without even really trying, I've already landed right in the middle of the main story. Of all the people in Ostagar, all the thousands of people (there really are a lot more bodies mulling around than the game alludes to), nobody can expect me to believe that I just happened to bump into the one person who would lead me directly to Duncan the minute I stepped foot inside the camp. Those odds are…well, I'm not a mathematician, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out that they're pretty low. Right now, I'm sitting by a bonfire waiting for Duncan to return with Alistair and my fellow recruits. Yes, that's right; I am now a Grey Warden recruit. Bloody marvellous. I still haven't figured out how, or even if, I should warn Duncan of Loghain's betrayal. How can I explain how I know? I can't tell him the truth, he'll think I'm a crazy person. He'll have me sectioned, or whatever it is they do with crazy people in Ferelden. And could telling him actually make things worse? I don't see how it could…although, Loghain is the Queen's father, Duncan might go to Cailan with my information and I could be accused of treason or something. I have no idea what to do, but if I'm going to tell him, I have to do it soon. I'm running out of time. If I survive the Joining, I'll try to write again soon. I have to go now; I've just spotted my new "colleagues" across the camp. Buggar shit fuck._

I snapped my diary shut and tossed it back into the depths of my handbag, and leapt to my feet, smoothing down my dress. Despite my protests, I still hadn't been to the armoury for a change of clothes, although Duncan assured me it was next on the agenda, but I could tell he had bigger concerns at present than my wardrobe. I had bigger concerns than that too, like the Darkspawn taint coursing through my bloodstream, slowly killing me. I'd had pretty bad Mondays before but today was definitely shaping up to be the worst. I thought back to my first Monday at St. Margaret's School for Girls and wrinkled my nose at the unpleasant memory. Well, today was in the top _five_ worst, at least.

"Duncan." I greeted him as he approached me with four other men: three of whom I recognised, one who was a stranger. It didn't take much of my brain power to identify him as Cousland. The large Mabari at his heel banished any doubt that I might have had.

"Lauren," Duncan replied, inclining his head and gesturing to the man on his right, "This is Alistair. He is the junior member of the Order and will be accompanying you and your fellow recruits into the Wilds."

Alistair stepped forward and offered his hand for me to shake.

"Well met, Lauren." He grinned, boyishly.

It was strange, seeing him in real life. It had been strange enough seeing Morrigan, Flemeth and Duncan, but this was… Alistair! He'd been my best friend in the game. Hell, I had sacrificed my Cousland to the Archdemon so that he could go on to rule Ferelden! If Emily could see me now, actually touching Alistair Theirin's hand, she would die! Okay, poor choice of words. But she would be hysterical. She played the game before I did, and had chosen Alistair as the romance option. She was a huge fangirl. So much so that when I played it, her words to me were "You can borrow the game, but do not fall in love with Alistair. You can have Zevran if you want, but don't touch Alistair. He's mine." What a psycho. I didn't really mind, though. I ended up not going through with any of the romance options in the end, although Leliana had proved to be more persistent than I would have expected considering I didn't remember ever coming on to her. I had been more interested in fighting the good fight than making kissy faces at any of my companions, and in the end, I had actually surprised myself by how much I really cared about all of the fictional characters who had fought alongside mine. It took me by surprise, the urgent need I felt to take the fall for Alistair. It had been unexpectedly emotional.

And now, here he was. It was strange. In the game, I had never really thought of Alistair as a _guy_ , he was more like a puppy dog who was handy in a fight and who provided some comic relief. But in the flesh, his imposing physique was difficult to ignore. He towered over me which, admittedly, isn't that difficult to do, given my height. But that wasn't what made him physically intimidating: it was his sheer muscle mass. He looked solid underneath his armour, and his firm handshake only reinforced that impression.

I realised I was staring, and had probably kept hold of his hand a little too long. I cleared my throat and nodded, retrieving my hand from his grip. He smirked, good-naturedly, and ran a hand through his thick, sandy hair. I could feel the blood rising in my face. _Oh God, he thinks I'm an idiot. Oh no, he thinks I'm staring because I_ fancy _him!_ This thought just made me blush even more fiercely and I tore my eyes from his face, trying to regain my composure.

"Well met, Alistair." I replied, keeping my tone as even as possible, and flicked my eyes to the next member of the group: Daveth. I moved to shake his hand and, in my flustered state, almost greeted him by name, but I managed to cover it up at the last second.

"Nice to meet you, Daaaa…rling." I didn't say I covered it up _well_. He chuckled, and winked at me, taking my hand and, instead of shaking it, planted a light kiss on my knuckles. Oh, for fuck sake.

"Nice to meet _you_. The name's Daveth. I must say, _you're_ not what I was expecting when Duncan said he'd recruited someone else." He replied, smiling roguishly as his eyes trailed down my body. I struggled to keep my face passive and resist the powerful urge to punch him.

 _Yes, yes, I've had this conversation with you before. "Not a woman", yes I know._ Anxious for this awkward as Hell moment to pass, I responded with a curt smile and turned to Jory.

"Well met, Ser…?" I had finally regained my composure and the ever dignified Jory crossed his arm over his chest and inclined his head, respectfully.

"Jory, messere. It is a pleasure." He replied. And lastly, the only one of the bunch whose face I didn't recognise.

"You must be Cousland." I smiled, warmly at him. He returned my smile, a little weakly, I thought, and I was close to being wounded by the darkness behind his eyes as he took my hand in greeting, before I remembered that he had just lost his family. The gravity of what had happened to this poor man hit me unexpectedly like a ton of bricks, and brought back the all-too-fresh grief of my own loss, and I silently cursed myself for the hot tears that stung my eyes, threatening to spill over. _Don't cry, don't cry, they already think you're a weirdo, if you cry now you'll just remove all doubt that you are, in fact, a massive weirdo._

"Grayson." He responded, gruffly. "Well met."

"It's nice to meet you, Grayson." I replied, the uncomfortable lump of emotion in my throat squeezing my voice out in a strangled whisper. I cleared my throat with a very unattractive grunt and shook my head. "Ah, sorry. The…ah, smoke…from the fire…I'm just a little hoarse. And I see you too have a little horse." I grinned, gesturing to the massive Mabari hound by his side. Alistair laughed, appreciatively, and Cousland flashed me the ghost of a smile.

"This is Kahn. Say hello." He instructed the dog, who barked loudly, wagging his tail. I patted his head and he whined, like an over-excited Labrador.

"Alistair, take Lauren to the armoury." Duncan ordered. "When you're done there, meet us back here as soon as you can. We do not have many hours of daylight left, and your venture into the Wilds cannot wait."

"Very well. This way." Alistair said, cheerfully, striding off in the direction from which he came. I jogged to keep up in my fabulously inappropriate shoes and was already halfway across the clearing in the main camp before I caught up.

"Short strides, if you please. These shoes weren't designed for running in." I said, gesturing to my massive heels. He stopped in his tracks and looked me up and down.

"What _were_ they designed for?" He asked, in confusion. I rolled my eyes.

"I can't keep having this conversation today. Does nobody in Ferelden have taste? Look at them. They are divine. Just not very…practical."

"And…the dress?" He asked, obviously amused.

"What? The dress is nice." I said, defensively.

"It's a very nice dress." He agreed, nodding. "But you're not exactly dressed for the occasion."

"Yes, well, coming to Ostagar and being recruited by the Grey Wardens wasn't what I had planned when I picked this outfit." I explained as we started walking again. "That's why we're going to the armoury, genius."

"What did you have planned?" He asked, curiously, examining my face as walked. I shook my head.

"That's a long story." I replied, softly.

"I've got time." He grinned. I frowned up at him.

"No, you really don't. Your venture into the Wilds cannot wait!" I mimicked Duncan, rather well, I thought, and Alistair chuckled.

"Good point, well made. And here we are, anyway." He gestured to a sizeable collection of chests surrounding a large, burly man sweating over an anvil. The man looked up as we approached.

"Hail, Alistair! And…" His gaze fell to me and confusion furrowed his brow as he looked to Alistair for enlightenment.

"This, my good man, is Lauren. She's our latest recruit and, as you can see, is somewhat lacking in the armour department. Do you have any child-size armour that will fit her?" He asked, his face so dead-pan that, if I didn't know him so well, I might not have realised he was being facetious.

"Ha ha. You're a funny man, Alistair." I drawled, with equal facetiousness.

"Come with me, messere. I'll get you sorted, alright." The man smiled, his friendly, weather-beaten face crinkling pleasantly around the edges of his eyes and mouth.

A few minutes later, I emerged from behind the make-shift screen that had been provided for me to change behind, my dress and shoes discarded unceremoniously into my handbag which, in turn, had been shoved into the bottom of a large woven rucksack. I caught my reflection in a large, bronze shield and grinned, slowly. I thought I looked pretty good, with my leather greaves and gauntlets, thick leather, steel-toed boots, and splint-mail armour. I turned to Alistair, who was slow-clapping.

"Muuuuch better." He said, with a smile. "Now you might not die instantly."

I bowed, deeply.

"Thank you, kind sir! Your confidence in me is simply _inspiring_!" I rose from my bow and looked down at my armour and then over at Alistair. "Hey, look at us! We're kind of matching. It's clearly a sign that this is the beginning of a firm friendship."

He chuckled, shaking his head as I "oohed" and zipped over to a chest containing lots of shiny weapons. I picked up a short-sword and a leather holster fixed with small, silver daggers.

"How much for these?" I asked the blacksmith, fully aware that I had no money, but hoping I might have something in my handbag that I could trade. An iPhone? It wasn't worth shit in this world, but he might like it, I thought. It's shiny, and the holographic Batman cover's pretty cool. He shook his head.

"No charge. Duncan is an old friend, and I owe him a favour or two." I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

"Wow. Duncan really gets around. Thank you!" I smiled, gratefully, slinging the short-sword around my left shoulder so that the blades of my swords crossed across my back, and fastened the dagger holster around my thigh. I turned to Alistair, who shouldered my new rucksack. "Well, shall we head back to Duncan, then?"

"In a moment, you just need one more thing." He strode over to one of the chests and turned around, holding the most hideous helmet ever forged by man or beast. I shook my head, slowly.

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes." He grinned, walking over to me, holding the helmet out for me to take. I regarded it with a look of disgust.

"I'm not putting that on." I said.

"Oh, yes, you are." He insisted, pulling it over my head before I could stop him. The brim of the helmet came down past my eyebrows and I blinked up at him.

"I look like an idiot." I complained.

"Ah, but you don't. See, only very clever people wear helmets. It protects the brain." He knocked on the side of the helmet to demonstrate his point.

"Stop that."

"Does it hurt?"

"No."

"See? Aren't you glad you were wearing a _helmet_?"

"Oh, great. Our guide and mentor is a _moron_." I grinned to show him I was joking and he clutched a hand to his heart, pretending to be wounded. "Seriously, Alistair, I'm not wearing this. It…obscures my vision and stuff."

"And stuff. Seriously, Lauren, you are. I promise that before the end of today, it will prove itself useful." The sincerity in his face broke my resolve and I sighed in defeat.

"Fine! You win. I'll wear the stupid helmet. Happy?" I huffed, adjusting it slightly so that I could at least see where I was going.

"Delighted! Well, now you look like a proper warrior, we should head back to Duncan and the others. The Wilds await!"


	10. Swooping is Bad

"What took you two so long, anyway?" Daveth asked as he, Jory, Grayson, Alistair and I crossed the threshold into the Korcari Wilds. "It doesn't take that long to pick up some mail and a helmet. _Nice_ helmet, might I add." He grinned and winked at me and I narrowed my eyes in response.

"Shut up." I clipped, airily. "Jealousy is an ugly trait."

"Not as ugly as that helmet."

I waved my sword at him in jest, but kept my expression serious.

"Would you like to be introduced to your entrails now or later?" I asked, politely. He held up his hands in mock surrender.

"So, come on, what took you so long?" He repeated. Alistair, who we had both assumed was out-of-earshot as he scouted a little ahead of us, answered for me.

"Well, apparently, not even the threat of the Blight is enough to deter Lauren from aiding injured animals. She stopped to help muzzle a wounded Mabari hound so that the people tending him could inspect his injuries. Poor blighter will probably be dead by morning, at any rate." He kept his eyes on our surroundings as he spoke, his keen eyes sweeping the area for any sign of Darkspawn activity. Daveth shook his head and muttered something about "women" and I shrugged.

"Maybe not. The man who was taking care of him said he might be able to heal him if I bring back a Wilds flower: which I will. And then he will be mine and I shall name him Larry, and I will train him to bite the ankles of all those who question my logic in future. So you might want to invest in some sturdier greaves, Alistair." I suggested, thrusting my chin in the air and trying my best to look aloof, a task which was not made easy by the anti-aloofness device propped on my head, and which was made even harder when said device, i.e. the Stupid Helmet, slid down over my eyes for the twentieth time since I'd agreed to wear it.

"Either way, that's a good thing that you did." Grayson said, thoughtfully. I smiled, gratefully, at him. "Not everyone could get close enough to a Mabari to muzzle it without losing at least a few fingers, even when it's not hurt and scared. He must have seen something special in you." His voice took on an affectionate tone when he spoke of Mabaris like that, and I wondered if he was already regretting leaving Kahn behind with Duncan.

"It's my animal-magnetism." I replied, grinning. "It only applies to dogs, horses and unemployed musicians in their twenties."

"I sense there's a story there." Alistair smirked as he doubled-back to re-join our group. I shrugged.

"Yes, a terribly interesting story which I might tell you some day. It really is fascinating. You'll laugh, you'll cry, it'll change your life."

"Really?"

"No."

"Wolves!" Jory exclaimed, and I glanced over at him, wondering if that was some Fereldan curse word, like "Crumbs!", but the unmistakable sound of a howl put an end to that theory. Without having to think about it, my swords were in my hands and I had slipped into a defensive stance – it was going to take some time for my brain to get used to my body's new battle-reflexes – and all of a sudden, the pack descended upon us from the densely-packed trees on our right. We slashed and dodged for what I estimated could have been no longer than two minutes before the last wolf was slain with a swift thrust of Grayson's long-sword. I felt my muscles relax and glanced at Alistair, who was sheathing his sword. If Alistair thought the danger had passed for now, that was good enough for me. His Grey Warden senses were my Fereldan equivalent of the canary down the mine, at least until the Joining where I would either be bestowed with my own set of Grey Warden senses, or I would no longer be in a position where I would need them, what with being dead and all.

I sheathed my own swords and shook my head, annoyed with myself. _I should have seen that coming._ What was the point of having all of the knowledge I did about this world, about these _exact_ events, if I couldn't keep on top of things? I couldn't keep being taken by surprise, I had to think ahead. What was next? My mind was blank.

"Keep your wits about you: all of you. There are worse things than wolves lurking in these trees. Believe me." Alistair warned, darkly. _Yeah_ , I thought, _like Morrigan_. I knew she would show herself at the Grey Warden ruins, and I was anxious to get there as quickly as possible. I had a bone to pick with her for abandoning me earlier. If she hadn't, then maybe I wouldn't have had to face that last Hurlock alone, and then I wouldn't have been infected with the taint, and if I hadn't been infected with the taint, I wouldn't have had to accept Duncan's offer of recruitment. It only took this thought for me to conclude that this whole thing was entirely her fault. I remembered her admission from the game that she had watched the Grey Wardens for "some time" when they were travelling through the Wilds…I shuddered as I scanned the trees, wondering what guise she would take, wondering if she was watching even now as a wolf or bird or some other woodland animal. Creepy.

We reached the mouth of the lake and worked our way around it. We walked for several minutes before the first group of Darkspawn appeared. There were only a handful, and we made reasonably quick work of them. Alistair despatched two Genlocks, Jory and Daveth took down another in a combined effort between them, and Grayson and I each slayed a Hurlock almost simultaneously, their large, grotesque bodies hitting the ground within seconds of one another. Alistair watched as the other recruits and I produced the vials that Duncan had given us and collected our Darkspawn blood as instructed. I held the vial full of black ichor in front of my face, wrinkling my nose in disgust at the foul-smelling, viscous liquid that I knew I would soon have to ingest. Gross.

"Good work, men. And lady." He added as an afterthought. "But we still have to get those treaties, and it will be dark soon. Let's get a move on, shall we?"

We moved swifter this time, my fellow recruits striding along with more confidence after their first successful encounter with Darkspawn. After almost thirty minutes, and two more brief encounters with the 'Spawn, the crumbling ruins of the Grey Warden tower were in sight. Alistair turned to say something to us, but we never found out what it was, as his words were cut short by the sound of a monstrous bellow from uphill.

"With me!" Alistair cried, readying his weapon and charging in the direction of the largest Darkspawn group we had seen so far. We were at an immediate disadvantage, approaching our enemies from downhill, and I had to dodge a few well-aimed arrows from a group of Genlock archers.

We surged forward as one, but our ranks were soon broken in the chaos of the fight. I slashed and parried and Darkspawn fell around me, but I was so preoccupied with my own battles that I had no time to even glance at the other members of my party and had no idea how they were faring. I could only hope that everyone was okay. When the last of the Hurlocks facing me fell to the ground with a blood-curdling shriek, I rose from my combat stance and scanned the area for my companions, the Stupid Helmet obscuring my peripheral vision just as I had predicted it would.

Alistair was closer to me than I had realised, only a few yards from my side, taking down the last of the Genlock archers in short order, and Jory and Grayson were locked in battle with what I assumed was the Hurlock Alpha – larger and more powerful-looking than the rest of the 'Spawn, it took both of their efforts to best him, but they appeared to be gaining the upper hand. None of them looked to be seriously injured and I breathed a small sigh of relief, my breath catching in my throat when I realised I had only accounted for four of us: I was missing someone.

Just as Grayson landed the killing blow, I heard a cry from behind me and whipped around in time to see Daveth fall to the ground, overwhelmed by the large Hurlock bearing down upon him. He was too far away for me to reach him in time and, without thinking too much about it, I ripped the Stupid Helmet off and hurled it through the air. It clipped the Hurlock on the back of the head and threw it off-balance, giving Daveth a chance to scramble to his feet and plunge his daggers into the beast's chest. I turned to Alistair.

"Hey, look at that. You were right! The Stupid Helmet _did_ come in handy, after all." I beamed at him, shaking my hair out. "Ah, that feels _so_ much better." I exclaimed, tossing back my head and massaging my scalp like one of those overly enthusiastic actresses you see in shampoo commercials.

Daveth jogged over to us and thrust the Stupid Helmet into my hands. My heart sank. I had just saved his life; he couldn't have just done the decent thing and left it where it was?

"Thanks." He grinned. I glared at him, yanked the offending article back onto my head and crossed my arms, huffily.

"You're welcome." I snarled through gritted teeth.

"Come on", Alistair chuckled, "let's get those treaties and get back to Duncan."

Once inside the ruins, I hung back and let the men examine the chest, already knowing that they would find…

"Nothing." Alistair shook his head, kicking the ancient stone chest in frustration. "There's nothing here. They must have been moved or…"

I watched her slow descent down the stone ramp before any of the men became aware of her presence, and I allowed a low growl of frustration rumble deep in my throat. Grayson threw me a questioning look, but before either of us could say a word, Morrigan spoke, and four heads snapped round to look at her.

"Well, well, what have we here?" She drawled, in that sinisterly seductive tone of hers. I hung back from the group and remained silent, letting her have her fun…for now. She hadn't noticed me yet or, more likely, hadn't recognised me with the Stupid Helmet obscuring most of my face. "Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger, poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these Darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey? What say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?"

"Neither. The Grey Wardens once owned this tower." Grayson replied, remarkably calmly given Morrigan's wild appearance.

"Tis a tower no longer. The Wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse. I have watched your progress for some time." She spoke directly to Grayson now, his decision to speak up clearly singling him out to her as the leader, and she strode casually past the group, looking totally confident, relaxed and at ease with the situation. It was completely surreal, watching the scene play out exactly as I had countless times before. ""Where do they go?" I wonder, "Why are they here?" And now, you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?"

I had had enough. I had had enough of her condescending tone, I had had enough of watching her toy with the men, and I had had enough of playing a silent partner. I stepped forward, removing my helmet as I went, and Morrigan turned her eyes to me, her pale face blanching even more as recognition dawned on her sharp features.

"You?" She looked taken-aback for a moment before gathering herself, and the mask of cold indifference slid back into place. "So…you survived your first encounter with the Darkspawn. Impressive for one who had "never even held a sword" before this afternoon." She remarked, slyly. Alistair frowned at me in confusion and I glared up at her.

"What does she mean, "never even held a sword" before? Lauren, how do you know this woman?" Alistair muttered quietly into my ear, keeping his eyes trained on Morrigan. "She looks Chasind. And that means others may be nearby."

"Ooh, you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?" She mocked, gesturing emphatically.

"Yes. Swooping is bad." Alistair ground out through gritted teeth, as I had heard him do a thousand times before. "Lauren?" He whispered, pressing me for an answer. I waved a hand, dismissing his questions for now, my attention focused on Morrigan.

" _You_ …you abandoned me in the Wilds, surrounded by Darkspawn, and all you can say to me is that you're _impressed_?" I hissed, ignoring Alistair's hand on my arm, restraining me. Morrigan shrugged, with an air of complete nonchalance.

"It was intended as a compliment." She said, simply.

"A compliment? How about you try an _apology_ , you treacherous, arrogant, self-centred, little-"

"Lauren." Alistair interrupted, with a warning tone in his voice, bringing me back to my senses. This was Morrigan, after all. Despite my feelings towards her, I was well aware that she could quite easily kill me with a wave of her hand. It was a humbling thought, and I bit my tongue, turning away from her with a frustrated grunt and moving to the back of the group, my fists clenching and unclenching in anger as I tried to cool off. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply, and blocking out the sounds of the conversation now taking place between Morrigan and Grayson, as it was one I had heard before. I tried to force away the bubble of anger rising up inside of me, but it was proving to be more difficult to fight than I would have expected. I'm not generally a quick-tempered person: I've always been pretty laid-back and easy-going and, granted this was an exceptional situation, the fury building inside of me scared me a little.

And then, just as suddenly as it had come over me, the anger dissipated, leaving me weak and shaky in its absence. I swayed unsteadily as a wave of nausea hit me and a cold sweat broke out on my brow. My knees buckled and I bent double, gasping. Alistair's hand was on my arm in an instant, and I raised my eyes to his concerned face.

"Lauren? Are you okay?" He asked, softly. The rest of the men were looking down at me with worried expressions, all except Daveth who kept his eyes trained suspiciously on Morrigan, who was watching me with detached interest. I waved off their concern, although I was still struggling to breathe normally.

"I'm fine, I just….I don't know, I just feel weird…" I croaked.

"It's the taint." Alistair said, grimly. I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

"Oh, yeah…I forgot about that." I admitted, standing upright and shaking my head, trying to clear the spots that were swarming my vision. They all stared at me. "What? It's been a weird day." I said, defensively. Morrigan snaked her way through the group to approach me, her movements reminding me of a large cat stalking a mouse. She studied me for a moment and her eyes glinted, sinisterly.

"Ah, yes. I thought there was something different about you, Lauren Duval. Yes, I see it now…you have but a few hours left to you before you turn." Her arrogant smile faltered under my gaze and she sighed, reluctantly. "I am sorry to hear of your _situation_. My reasons for leaving you were my own. Perhaps I will share them with you someday…perhaps not. But what is done is done, and the blame for your _condition_ does not lie with me." Her tone hardened, and I felt too weak in that moment to challenge her on that. "For now…what is it that you seek?" She asked, curiously. "Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest…something that is here no longer?"

"Here no longer? You stole them, didn't you? You're some kind of…sneaky…witch-thief!" Alistair accused, and Morrigan and I rolled our eyes in unison, before regarding each other with similar contempt at the prospect that we might actually agree on something.

"How very eloquent." She drawled. "How does one steal from dead men?"

"Quite easily, it seems." Alistair snarled. Before he could continue, I cut him off. The spots in my vision were growing larger and the dizziness was getting worse by the second, I couldn't waste any more precious time.

"I'm guessing your mother has the scrolls we are looking for?" I gasped, breathlessly. Morrigan blinked at me, looking somewhere between surprised and impressed that I had guessed accurately, but only for a moment before her expression grew suspicious. Of course I knew that Flemeth had the treaties, and of course Morrigan suspected that I knew, but neither of us said anything in the presence of the others. "Can you lead us to her?"

She looked like she wanted to argue, but I must have looked as bad as I felt because she sighed in resignation.

"Very well. Follow me, if it pleases you."

Alistair threw my arm around his neck and snaked an armoured arm around my waist, supporting my weight as I shuffled forward. The nausea had passed, for now, but a painful sensation not unlike pins and needles was spreading through my limbs and my legs felt like lead. Ser Jory approached me from the other side, and I dropped the Stupid Helmet on the ground to allow him to assist Alistair in supporting me. Alistair was so concerned with keeping me on my feet that he seemed not to notice as it rolled away down the sloping embankment.

I smiled as I watched it disappear into a thicket of brambles. Suddenly, I felt a little better.


	11. Frail

Alistair and Jory carried me along as we followed Morrigan through the Korcari Wilds. The motion made my head spin and feelings of nausea kept hitting me in waves as we moved. I hardly ever got ill, I hadn't had a single sick-day from school, and I was discovering that I was not a good patient. I was not strong, not like this. I wanted so badly for them to let me go, to lie down on the mossy ground and close my eyes, but they kept walking, half-carrying, half-dragging me over the rough terrain. Whatever path Morrigan was leading us down, it seemed to be invisible to all but her. There wasn't so much as a badger track to mark the way, but she strode with purpose down the unbeaten trail, and it was all we could do to keep sight of her. Somewhere between the ruins and Flemeth's hut, I was overcome by the taint and I lost consciousness completely, safe in the haven of strong arms.

I awoke what could only have been minutes later, to the familiar rattle of Flemeth's voice.

"Leave her with me, I will bring her back to your camp when she wakes." She was saying to the men. Grayson started to protest, but Alistair's voice drowned him out.

"I am very grateful to you for the safe return of the scrolls, but we will be taking her with us. We have to get her back to camp as soon as possible."

"She is in no condition to travel. I can assure you, young man, I have means of-"

"I think I can take a guess at what your _means_ are, but no, thank you, she is my responsibility, and I won't-"

"Alist...uuggh." I groaned, forcing myself to sit upright. I was lying in the same bed I had woken up in only hours before. Alistair was kneeling by my side before my eyes were open.

"Lauren...you passed out. You're in-"

"I know, I know...I'm okay." I said, unconvincingly. I struggled to focus on his face. His eyes were full of concern and I felt a stab of guilt. I was supposed to be helping his cause, not hindering it. I smiled, weakly, and the effort of it caused my head to pound so hard that I feared I might pass out again, but I managed to cling to consciousness this time.

"You are not okay. We have to get you back to Duncan." He said, and there was a note of panic in his voice that didn't make me feel any better. I nodded, slowly, as Grayson knelt beside Alistair.

"No arguments here." I mumbled, acknowledging Grayson with a grimace as a sharp pain shot through my chest.

"Can you walk?" He asked, searching my face. I hadn't the energy to shrug so I just made a face and struggled to swing my legs over the edge of the bed. This simple movement sapped all of my remaining strength and I bent double, groaning pathetically. I held my head in my hands and felt my face sticky with cold sweat.

"I can carry her." Alistair said, quietly, to Grayson.

"Are you sure? You carried her here, I can..."

"No, I can manage."

"But if we encounter any more Darkspawn..."

"I'll keep her safe."

"Ugghhh." I groaned, trying to convey my displeasure at being discussed like some helpless damsel, realising even as I did so that at present, I really _was_ helpless. I tried to lift my head from my hands, but hadn't even the energy to do that, so I stayed where I was as I sensed the men rising to their feet.

"She does not have long." The sound of Flemeth's voice told me she was a lot closer than I had first realised. "If you insist on taking her back with you, give her this."

"What is it?" Alistair demanded, suspiciously.

"Essence of Elfroot...among other things." I recognised this statement and managed to look up, wearily.

"It's okay." I croaked. "It'll help. She's...she's a friend." I met Flemeth's eye and, though I wasn't sure that was entirely true, I knew that she wanted me alive, for now at least. I lowered my head again and held out a hand for the vial that Flemeth was passing to Alistair. He knelt by my side and cupped my chin in his hand, raising the vial to my mouth. I opened my eyes again with great effort and looked at him, but his eyes were focused intently on my lips as he tilted the vial and I felt the liquid trickle into my mouth. I swallowed, roughly, and coughed, but instantly felt the same warm sensation as I had the last time Flemeth had dosed me with this mystery potion and nodded to signal I was okay. I felt a portion of my strength return to my tired limbs and I managed to sit upright, huffing a weary sigh. I locked eyes with Alistair and shook my head, miserably.

"I must say, Lauren Duval, I did not expect our second meeting would be quite as dramatic as our first." Flemeth smiled from the doorway. I nodded to her in gratitude and she turned her gaze to Alistair, her eyes hardening instantly. "Get her back to your camp, then, if that is what you must do, and do not tarry. There are some things even your ritual cannot bring her back from."

"What do you know about-" Alistair started, suspiciously, but she waved his question off with a cold look.

"My hospitality is at an end, for now." She barked, turning on her heel and leaving. Alistair looked at me, bewildered.

"You said she's your _friend_?" He asked. I shrugged a shoulder.

"Something like that." I offered. He rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed with the whole situation, and took the opportunity to scoop me up in his arms. I snaked an arm awkwardly around his neck to steady myself, uncomfortable at being so close to a man I had just met, even if it _was_ Alistair. I felt like I knew him, of course, but he had only just met me and I didn't want to act too familiar for fear that he might take it the wrong way. He didn't seem to feel the same way though and, despite my strictly platonic feelings towards him, I couldn't help but feel just a little insulted that he didn't appear to feel the slightest bit awkward about holding me so close, knowing what I did about his history, or lack thereof, with the opposite sex. He was just doing his job, keeping all of his recruits safe. I wasn't a woman to him, I was a young girl that he was responsible for. I caught myself feeling slightly disappointed, and then berated myself for this line of thinking. I was, to put it plainly, dying, and I was worried about feeling unattractive? _Get a grip._

"Shall we?" He said to Grayson, and the three of us left the hut as Alistair carried me princess-style across the threshold.

"Milking it, are we?" Daveth remarked with a smirk as we joined them in the clearing outside the hut. I stuck my tongue out at him, too tired to think of any kind of witty rebuttal. A quick sweep of the area told me that Flemeth was nowhere to be seen, but Morrigan stood at the edge of the group, looking sullen. I guessed that, as she had in the game, Flemeth had ordered her to lead us back to Ostagar.

The men started moving after Morrigan, all but Alistair readying their weapons, more cautious now that two of their party were incapacitated. I huffed a sigh and rested my head gratefully on Alistair's armoured shoulder. He shifted me slightly in his arms and I wrinkled my nose.

"I'm not too heavy, am I?" I asked, embarrassed. He snorted.

"You have the body mass of a malnourished elf." He retorted. I frowned, offended, and he seemed to notice. "Not in a bad way, I just mean...no, you're not heavy."

"Good. I'm so sorry about this, Alistair. Really, I am. I promise, if I survive the Joining, I will definitely make it up to you."

"Oh? So you're going to carry me through Darkspawn-infested woods, are you?"

"Whatever it takes." I mumbled, sleepily. "I thought I'd just bake you a nice cake or something."

He chuckled.

"I didn't have you pegged for the baking sort." He confessed, and I grinned, closing my eyes.

"I'm a girl of many talents. Unfortunately, at present, walking upright is not one of them. But being infected with Darkspawn taint is something that almost never happens to me, I swear."

"I believe you. It's usually a once-in-a-lifetime experience. And you don't have to apologise, Lauren. It's not your fault." He said, kindly. I shrugged.

"I don't know...I mean, it kind of is my fault. If I hadn't been so careless, I would never have been infected with Darkspawn taint in the first place." I mused.

"And if you had never been infected with Darkspawn taint, the Grey Wardens wouldn't have gained such a promising new recruit." He replied, obviously trying to make me feel better. I snorted, looking away from him.

"Yes. Behold, my promise." I drawled, gesturing weakly down at my limp body in his arms. "I pity the next Darkspawn that crosses my path."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. I saw you back there, at the ruins. You have good form. You could use a little more training, but you're strong and you're quick. You'll be a great warrior one day."

I gaped at him, offended. I could use a little more _training_? I'll be a great warrior _one_ day? I mean...yeah, sure, the fighting skills that I had weren't exactly my own. I couldn't take any credit for them. But I had felt like such a rock star. My reflexes were incredible, and my aim was deadly. I pouted, raising my chin a little, and throwing him a very dirty look. He rolled his eyes.

"What did I say now?" He sighed, in exasperation. I shook my head, averting my eyes.

"Nothing." I said, curtly.

"Really? Because if looks could kill..."

"If looks could kill, then perhaps my sub-par battle skills would not be an issue." I sniffed. He laughed at me, shaking his head.

"Way to snatch an insult from the jaws of a compliment." He muttered, still shaking his head in incredulity.

"Telling me I need more training was a compliment?"

"I said you had good form."

"So just a back-handed compliment, then."

"I wasn't trying to offend you." He said, apologetically, and I instantly felt bad.

"I'm sorry. I'm not usually this touchy. I think it might be the taint." It felt like a lame excuse, but it was true. The way I had exploded at Morrigan earlier, and now acting like a huffy child with Alistair, was very uncharacteristic for me, even at my moodiest time of the month.

"It _is_ the taint." He assured me, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Really?" I asked, hopefully. He nodded.

"Yes. I've seen it before. One of the recruits at my Joining had been infected with the taint beforehand. In the few hours that I spent with him, he changed. He was pleasant and unassuming at first, but within a couple of hours of being infected, he became aggressive and angry. Don't worry about it." He said, kindly. I nodded, gratefully.

Neither of us said anything for a while, instead watching the other members of our party. Grayson took the lead, walking side-by-side with Morrigan, and the two of them looked deep in conversation. I frowned. I knew that Morrigan was a romance option for Cousland in the game, but I also knew what her intentions ultimately were. The curious sense of kinship I felt with Grayson made me prickle with unease as I saw Morrigan smirk flirtatiously in response to whatever he had just said.

"I don't like the way she's looking at him." I shared my thoughts with Alistair. He followed my gaze.

"She looks like she's being friendly enough." He said, reassuringly.

"Hmm. A little _too_ friendly if you ask me." I muttered, darkly. He gave me a curious look, somewhere between confusion and what might have been disappointment.

"Oh. I see. Right." He replied, gruffly.

Grayson turned his head and saw us watching him, and he doubled back to join us.

"How are you feeling, Lauren?" He asked, placing a hand on my forehead. "You're very hot." He said, concerned.

"Thanks. I try. You're not bad, yourself." I joked, winking exaggeratedly.

"What?" He asked in confusion.

"Oh...nothing. Just...where I'm from, "hot" is another word for "attractive". It was a joke. A joke that might have been funnier if I didn't have to explain it." I explained, awkwardly.

"Oh, right. Well...ha ha." He offered. I waved a hand, dismissively.

"No, no, don't try to make me feel better now, you've ruined it." I said, straight-faced, and he grinned, a genuine grin this time, then looked at Alistair.

"How are you holding up, Alistair? Do you want me to take over? I can carry her the rest of the way if you-"

"No, thank you. I've got her." Alistair said, stiffly. I frowned slightly at his uncharacteristic coolness towards Grayson, but Grayson didn't seem to notice.

"Okay, then. I'll scout on ahead." He said, brightly, jogging away from us to catch up with Morrigan again.

"What was _that_?" I asked, giving him a thoroughly disapproving look. He caught my eye and the coolness was still there. I raised my eyebrows at him and he thawed, shaking his head.

"What was what?"

"That! Grayson was just being helpful and you totally snapped at him."

"No I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"Well, would you like me to call him back over? Do you want him to carry you, instead? Maybe then, he'll talk to you instead of Morrigan." He said, moodily. I stared at him.

"What? No, that's not what I... _what_?" I demanded, perplexed. Suddenly, looking at his pouty expression, the shadow of hurt in his eyes, it dawned on me what was going on. So Alistair might not be attracted to me, but that didn't stop the fact that he thought I preferred Grayson over him from wounding his ego. "Alistair, I'm not _jealous_ that he's talking to Morrigan. I'm _concerned_ because she's a shifty apostate and she's acting all...predatorial. And you should be too. It's like watching a wolf salivate over a bunny rabbit."

"Oh, please. "You're so attractive, you're attractive too, tee he." I've never _seen_ such flirting." He scoffed. I narrowed my eyes at the exaggerated Scottish -or I guess it would be Starkhaven to him- accent that he employed for his high-pitched impression of me.

"I don't sound like that. Also, I believe the term is "banter" and how dare you, sir? I may be a lot of things, but a flirt is not one of them. And besides, Grayson's like a brother to me."

"You literally just met him. _Today_."

_Shit. That's right._

"Yyyyeesss, I mean he just _seems_ brotherly." I said, lamely.

"How can a person seem _brotherly_? When you've _just met them_?"

"They just can, okay? I've just met you, and you seem...morony." I snapped.

"But not brotherly?" He asked, slowly, squinting at me. I shook my head.

"Dude. You're being weird. I'm cutting you off before you escalate." I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm dying, remember? And you're making fun of me for having a make-believe crush."

"You are _not_ dying." He said, firmly.

"Yes, I am. I can feel this conversation sucking the life out of me. And something else about darkspawn taint coursing through my body, slowly killing me...or something, I forget." I said, flippantly.

"You're not _dying_." He repeated, quietly. Silence fell over us for a while and I looked around to see that the trees were thinning, and up ahead I could just make out the clearing in which I had met the soldiers. We were almost there.

"Alistair." I said, quietly, looking back at him. "The recruit...the one at your Joining, who'd been infected. After he became a Grey Warden, did he fully recover? I mean...the anger, the aggression...did it go away?"

Alistair looked at me, sadly.

"Of course he did. He was as good as new." He said, forcing a smile.

Alistair was a great warrior, but I imagined he'd make a terrible poker player. I didn't need to know him as well as I did to call his bluff. The recruit didn't recover at all. He was lying.


	12. Mightier than the Sword

Alistair carried me through the camp, to where Duncan was waiting for us. Morrigan had left us at the same clearing she had left me before, and Grayson had been chattering about her since she disappeared.

"She said she's lived in the Wilds all her life...can you believe that? Imagine! And her mother seems like such a strange woman...they're definitely apostates, but they must be very clever or very powerful to have avoided the Templars all this time, don't you think?"

"Grayson?" I responded, my energy waning once more as the effects of the potion Flemeth had given me started to wear off.

"Yes?"

"Do shut up. Nobody cares about Morrigan."

"I care." Daveth replied, with a shudder. "She gives me the willies. But that mother of hers is worse. The way she looked at me back there...it was like she could see inside of me, like she could hear my thoughts. I thought she was going to kill us all for sure."

"You're just being paranoid." Grayson scoffed, defensively. "They helped us. And they kept the scrolls safe. They didn't have to do that. Just because someone is a little different doesn't mean that they're _evil_ , Daveth."

"That's right, Daveth." I drawled. "These are the _nice_ kind of dangerous apostates who live in the Wilds and eat little children."

"Little children?" Daveth asked, wild-eyed. I shrugged.

"Dunno. Probably." I offered. "Grown men too, I'll bet." Daveth let out a squeak of fear, which he tried unsuccessfully to mask with a cough. I was having fun.

"Well, they're _your_ friends, Lauren. You said they helped you before." Grayson frowned. I sighed. His affinity with the witches did not bode well.

"Well, "friends" is a strong word. Acquaintances, is more like the word I would use." I muttered, dismissively.

"I have to agree with Daveth on this one." Alistair muttered. "There was definitely something sinister about them both."

"That's the Templar in you." Grayson insisted. I raised an eyebrow at Alistair. We hadn't discussed his Templar background, and I figured surprise was the correct emotion for me to convey at Grayson's statement. My brain was cloudy, but somehow I was managing to keep up with the conversation. So far, anyway.

"You have a Templar in you?" I asked, feigning ignorance. Alistair made a non-committal grunt, clearly unwilling to get into it at that moment, as Duncan came into view. Kahn bounded up to us, and ran circles around Grayson's legs, clearly happy to see his master. I groaned in dismay and the men all looked at me with concern, obviously assuming it was a moan of pain.

"I forgot to get a Wilds flower." I wailed, mad at myself. "For the Mabari. I guess, with the fighting and then...well, with everything else that happened, it just slipped my mind."

Grayson cleared his throat and unhooked a suede pouch from his belt. He emptied the contents into his hand and, among the few silvers that he had brought from Highever, was a slightly crushed white flower with an orange centre. He held it out to me with a boyish grin. I beamed at him, gently taking the delicate flower from him and turning it over in my hand.

"You remembered! Oh, Grayson...thank you. I don't know what to say." I gushed, genuinely taken aback by this act of kindness.

"Nor I." Alistair muttered under his breath, and I nudged him with my elbow and shot him a warning look - be nice - and he rolled his eyes. Grayson shrugged, placing a hand on Kahn's head.

"I have a bit of a soft spot for the beasts. The thought of leaving one to suffer irks me just as much as it does you." He held out a hand for the flower and I returned it to him, gratefully. "I'll get this to his keeper, you just concentrate on getting better."

"Alistair." Duncan strode towards us and I shot Grayson a final look of gratitude before turning my attention towards him. "You're back."

"We have the scrolls, and the vials are full." Alistair nodded to Jory, who held the scrolls out to Duncan immediately, with the air of an obedient guard dog. He took them, unfurling them and scanning them silently. Satisfied, he rolled the parchment back up and and looked at Alistair, and then at me, still lying limp in his arms. I tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace as the pain shot through my chest again.

"Were you injured?" He asked, scanning my body with his dark eyes for signs of a wound.

"It's the taint. She's succumbing faster than we anticipated." Alistair responded for me, tightening his hold on me ever so slightly as he did, in what I figured was a subconscious action. I doubted he even realised what he was doing, but it was enough to strike the fear of God in me. You only hold on to things tighter if you think they're slipping away.

Duncan stepped closer to us and took one of my hands in his, a death-bed gesture if ever I saw one.

"Don't worry, Lauren. Nightfall is almost upon us. As soon as the last of the daylight is gone, we will begin the ritual. I will go now and prepare. The rest of you wait here with Alistair. I will come for you when we are ready to begin."

He turned on his heel and strode off, towards the ruins where I already knew the ritual would take place. I inhaled a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm my nerves. With everything that had been happening, I hadn't really given the Joining ritual the thought it deserved. Sure, it might save me, it might make this pain go away and give me shiny new Grey Warden abilities. On the other hand, it might kill me instantly. I knew for certain that it would kill Daveth and, after a fashion, Jory. I glanced over at them both and felt a stab of guilt pierce through the pain. I could save them. I could tell them to run, offer them the standard escape plan: go to Gwaren, take a ship to Kirkwall, have a pint at the Hanged Man and wait for all this to blow over. But they would never listen to me, not now, not with my face shiny with sweat and my body trembling with slow death.

And I had bigger problems to worry about. If convincing a gullible knight and a superstitious cut-purse felt beyond my capabilities, the burden of knowing what was going to happen in the imminent battle was almost unbearable. Even if I survived the Joining, and regained my strength, nobody was going to put that much faith in a brand new Warden, and a stranger. Certainly not the degree of faith that I needed. Not without some sort of evidence, and I had no idea how I would go about finding some, or even if there was any. In the battle scene, when Loghain turned to Cauthrien and told her to give the command to retreat, she was as surprised as anybody else. If his own Captain didn't know of his intentions beforehand, I doubted anybody else at Ostagar would. And if he was planning on committing such foul treachery, he was unlikely to go writing that shit down for me to conveniently find.

I could barely contain my frustration. What good was all of my knowledge if I couldn't figure out how to save anyone? How to change anything for the better? And now I had met Duncan, and he had been kind to me, had shown more faith in me than I could ever remember anybody doing before, and I had to just let him die? Or tell him the truth, have him think me insane and possibly dangerous, and then let him die anyway? Let them all just die? Daveth, Jory, Duncan, Cailan...countless others. They were all going to die, just as they would have done if I hadn't been here. They may as well just let the taint kill me, for all the good it would do anyone.

Then a thought struck me. A small spark of hope ignited inside me as a plan began to form in my head...a half-baked seed of a plan, but more than I'd had a moment before. I couldn't save everyone, that much was clear...but maybe I could save someone.

"Hey, Alistair, you can probably put me down now." I said, scanning the area for my rucksack. He lowered me gently to the ground and saw my searching eyes.

"Do you need something?"

"My pack, where is it?" I asked, urgently.

"Your best friend in the whole world, Grayson, has it." He drawled. I ignored his tone and turned to Grayson, but there was no sign of him.

"Right...and where...is Grayson?"

"Are you serious? He just told you he was going to find the kennel master. To give him the flower that he picked for you."

"He did?"

"He did. Just now. You replied."

"I did?"

"You said "Oh great, cheers". Wait, you weren't even listening?"

"No, I was..."

"Well that's just not very nice, is it? A man goes out of his way to pick you a flower and you can't even do him the basic honour of listening to him when he speaks." He crossed his arms, and his tone was one of mock-indignance, but he couldn't stop the amused grin from spreading across his face.

"I was miles away. Stop smiling. I need my pack. Or something...something to write with."

"Something to write with...hang on a mo..." He said, patting himself down and then holding his empty hands up in a hopeless shrug. "Nope, sorry. I must have left my quill and parchment in the top drawer of that old teak desk in the study."

"This is serious, Alistair." I said, quietly. His smile wavered, and he knelt beside me.

"What's so urgent?" He asked, and I witnessed for the first time the seamless transition between Alistair the clown and Alistair the Templar.

"My last will and testament." I snapped. He sighed and looked as though he was about to start trying to convince me that everything was going to be okay for the fiftieth time. "I'm joking." I cut him off, irritably, before he could begin. "I do need something to write with though. Anything."

"Well, you're in luck, here it comes." Alistair muttered, rising to his feet as Grayson jogged towards us, grinning, with Khan trotting along happily at his heels.

"Good news. The kennel master thinks he can save the Mabari with that flower. Larry the ankle-biter may live to see another day." He beamed down at me.

"Grayson! Thank you, and everything, that's really great, I really am grateful to you for doing all of that, thanks...I need my pack."

"Oh...right." Grayson dropped the pack by my feet and I grabbed it immediately, raking through it until I found my handbag at the very bottom. I yanked it out and rummaged around in it for my diary and my trusty Swarovski pen: a birthday gift from my horrible Aunt Irene.

"Here we are." I grabbed them and stuffed my bag back into the depths of the rucksack. If Emily were here to see the way I was mistreating my Mulberry, she would have a full-fledged anxiety attack. I flipped to the back of the diary and tore out a page, then looked up and realised I still had an audience. "Do you mind? This is private."

"What is that?" Alistair asked, squinting at my hands.

"It's a diary, Alistair. People write in them."

"Not that... _that_." He motioned to the pen in my hand.

"It's a pen." I frowned, before realising that pens didn't exist in this world. I grinned, mischievously. "A deadly weapon. It is said to be mightier than the sword." I whispered, dangerously. The men studied it, with similar expressions of alarm and distrust. "It's like a quill." I explained quickly, eager to be left alone to write.

"I don't understand...where's the ink well?" Alistair asked, suspiciously.

"It's a very special kind of quill. It doesn't need an ink well."

"May I...?" Grayson reached for it, inquisitively.

"Later." I promised, moving it out of his reach. "Right now, I need a few moments on my own. I have to write a letter to someone. It's important."

"If the lady insists." Alistair replied, feigning disinterest, but I didn't fail to notice the curious sideways glances he threw at me as he and Grayson moved away from me to join the others.

"Okay, Lauren..." I whispered to myself. "The pen is mightier than the sword...let's hope that's true. It won't be swords that save the King's life...not today."

I wrote quickly, then read, and reread my words several times, making sure that I hadn't omitted anything important, or made any terrible mistakes. After the tenth read-through, I sighed, folding the paper in half, and half again, and again, until it would fold no further. Then I signed one side of the folded square, for authenticity. If this was going to work, there could be no doubt of forgery or trickery.

"Alistair!" I beckoned him over and he excused himself from what looked like a stinted and awkward conversation with Ser Jory, and strode over to me. I turned the square of folded paper over and held it up to him, along with the pen. "I need you to sign this."

"Why?" He took the pen with barely concealed wariness, weighting it in his hand.

"Would you please just do it? Always with the questions." He frowned in confusion, but signed it anyway. He held the pen up to his face afterwards, turning it over in his hands.

"Remarkable...the ink is _inside_ the device?"

He made to hand it back to me and I shook my head. "No, you keep the note. I _will_ take the pen, though, that was expensive. No, yeah, give it here. I've signed the other side of it, just...check that for me...yeah? Great. Keep it safe, and don't let me or anyone else know where. I know this is a strange request but...just please, trust me. I need you to do this. And whatever you do, don't read it before I tell you to."

"Lauren...are you okay? Is the taint affecting your brain now? Do you...?"

"No, Alistair. I, Lauren Duval, do solemnly swear that I am of sound mind and...kind-of-sound body."

"If you say so." He sounded unconvinced.

"As sound as it ever was or ever will be. Just swear to me that you will not open that note until I tell you to."

"Okay, okay..." He muttered, half-heartedly, turning the folded paper over in his hands.

"Swear it, Alistair." I said, urgently.

"I swear to you, Lauren Duval, that I will not open this note until you tell me to." He replied, with apparent reluctance.

"Unless I die, during the Joining ritual, in which case, you can go ahead and open it then. But only once the ritual is complete." I insisted.

"You're not going to...yes, fine! I swear that I will not open this note until you tell me to, or in the event of your untimely death, until the Joining ritual is complete."

"Okay, good. Now...keep it secret. Keep it safe." I grinned, expecting him to grin back at me in recognition of the Tolkien reference, or reply with an "Okay, Gandalf", and then remembering that he had no idea what a hobbit was. "Thank you, Alistair."

"You're welcome...I think." He replied, gracing me with a half-smile. I returned it, hopeful for the first time that day that maybe I could achieve some good in this world. Even if I died tonight, I might have made a difference in this war. I had done everything I could, for now. I only hoped it would be enough. Now all I could do was wait. And the sight of Duncan striding across the campsite towards us in the last grey light of day told me that I wouldn't have to wait for long. For better or worse, my salvation or my doom, the Joining ritual was about to begin.


	13. The Joining

"The more I hear about this Joining, the less I like it."

Night had fallen, and the Joining ritual was imminent. The other recruits and I had been lead into the ruins by Alistair, who kept sneaking glances at me that ranged from curiosity to suspicion, but I kept my eyes forward, forcing myself to have faith in my plan. The more I thought about it, the worse I felt, but right now, it was the only one I had, and I knew that if ever there was a time I could have done more, that time had long since passed. I had made my decision now and there was no going back.

We stood in a circle as we waited anxiously for Duncan to rejoin us from...wherever he was, and I couldn't stop myself from glancing over at the single silver goblet sitting ominously atop the large stone table in the centre of the dilapidated structure.

"Are you blubbering again?" Daveth snapped at Jory, his own trepidation evident beneath the veneer of bravado.

"Why all these damned tests? Have I not earned my place?" Jory responded, indignantly. He caught my eye and I looked away, unable to bring myself to lie to him with a supportive smile or hollow words of reassurance.

"Maybe it's tradition." Daveth replied. "Maybe they're just trying to annoy you." He nudged me, playfully, with a "get-a-load-of-this-guy" grin, and I frowned, turning my gaze to the floor, trying to block out the words that were playing on a loop in my mind.. _Dead men walking. Dead men walking. Dead men..._

"I don't like it any more than you do." Grayson interjected, quietly. "But there's nothing we can do about it now."

"I only know that my wife is in Highever with a child on the way. If they had warned me, I..." I lifted my gaze to his once more and couldn't help but feel he was talking directly to me. I forgot about Jory, about his pregnant wife, waiting for her husband to come home to her. If only I had warned him, maybe he wouldn't be here right now. Maybe this nameless, faceless woman I had never met before wouldn't be a widow, a mother to a fatherless child. Her life could have been so different, if only I had been braver, smarter, if only I had found a way. But I hadn't, and now I had condemned a complete stranger to a world of heartache and pain, in the name of strategy. I had thought it through so callously, so coldly, without any emotion or shred of humanity. How could I have been so reckless, so careless with a human life? Why? Because he was _supposed_ to die? Well, what was the point of me, then? If I couldn't do this one thing, couldn't save this one good man? Who was _I_? What gave _me_ the right to decide who gets to live and who has to die for my own personal notion of the greater good? I should have just been honest from the start. It was much too late for that now. "It just doesn't seem fair."

"Would you have come if they'd warned you? Maybe that's why they don't." Daveth looked around the group for confirmation. "The Wardens do what they must, right?"

"Including sacrificing us?" Jory demanded. I winced, and swayed unsteadily, and Grayson placed a supportive arm across my back, reflexively. I was grateful, as the combined weight of my own guilt and the dull thudding pain of the taint threatened to floor me once more. I thanked him, silently, with a small smile, and looked up just in time to see Alistair look away, deliberately, with a tight, forced smile on his face.

"I would sacrifice a lot more if I knew it would end the Blight." Daveth replied, stoically. I refused to look at him. I liked Daveth. He was a bit of a lad, a bit of a chancer, and he had a mischievous glint in his eye that I found endearing. He was just a normal guy. I felt that if he had lived in my world, he would be the kind of guy you would see in the pub, making everyone laugh with lewd, inappropriate jokes and winking devilishly at every girl who walked past. Maybe the kind of guy who would try to sell you some pirate DVDs or a stolen blu-ray player. A criminal, sure, but a harmless, lovable rascal. His heart was in the right place. He didn't deserve to die. Not like this.

_Dead men walking. Dead men walking._

Grayson glanced down at me and I couldn't hide the look of despair that I knew must have been etched across my face. He nodded, reassuringly at me, and I forced a smile, though I knew it was more of a grimace. He cleared his throat.

"Okay, that's enough, you two." He said, shortly.

"Yeah, Ser Knight. Try not to wet your trousers until the ritual starts."

"I've just never faced a foe I could not engage with my blade."

"Yeah, I wouldn't worry about that." I muttered, despite myself.

His response was cut short by the appearance of Duncan. He strode past us, to the large, stone table, and the goblet that would determine each of our fates, his face grave, his stance formal and rigid.

"At last, we come to the Joining. The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of Darkspawn blood, and mastered their taint." He stopped and turned to face us, his eyes passing calculatingly across each of our faces. I couldn't bring myself to meet his gaze, instead feigning fatigue and keeping my head bowed and my eyes on the floor. I say "feigning", but the truth was that I really did feel like I was on death's doorstep, but I had gotten used to the pain now, and the knowledge that it would pass soon, one way or another, was working as a powerful anaesthetic.

"We're...going to drink the blood of those...those creatures?" Jory asked, his voice trembling with anxiety.

"As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you." Duncan replied, calmly. "This is the source of our power, and our victory."

"Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint...even those of us who have already been infected with it." Alistair added, nodding pointedly at me. "We can sense it in the Darkspawn, and use it to slay the Archdemon."

"Those who survive?" Grayson asked, grimly, although there was no trepidation in his voice. He seemed to have accepted his fate, one way or another. I couldn't say I was surprised, given what he had been through in the last few days. I was beginning to feel the same way.

"Not all who drink the blood will survive." Duncan replied, almost apologetically. "And those who do are forever changed. This is why the Joining is a secret. It is the price we pay. We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would?"

Alistair nodded, and looked down, catching my eye as he did so. He looked as grim and as worried as I felt.

"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice shall not be forgotten...and that one day we shall join you."

Silently, Duncan retrieved the goblet from the table, holding it up with both hands, reverently. He looked at me, and I froze. _No, no, no, don't say me, please don't say me..._ I had gone over that letter fifteen times before handing it to Alistair, I had accounted for every detail...except for me. I hadn't thought about how my being there might change everything, and if my plan had any hope of working, I needed everything to happen exactly as it had before, or Jory and Daveth's sacrifices would be for nothing.

"Lauren." Duncan said, and I shook my head.

"I'm just feeling a little...can someone else go first?"

Alistair frowned at me, and I saw a flash of something like disappointment in his expression, but I ignored him.

"Lauren, you are not long for this world. To delay any further would not be wise." Duncan replied, with an authoritarian edge to his voice that I had only ever heard him use when talking to Alistair in the game.

"I honestly think I might projectile vomit, and I don't want to waste any of the...blood." I finished, lamely. Duncan studied me and I held his gaze, unwaveringly, trying to communicate my thoughts to him silently. _I'm not trying to get out of this. I'm in this. I'm dead either way. Just...please...you'll ruin everything._ "I think I just need a moment or two. I'm already dying, I've been dying for hours now...I don't think a couple of more minutes will make much of a difference for me."

Duncan held my gaze for a few more seconds, and I held my breath anxiously for his response. Eventually, he nodded, curtly.

"Very well. Take a few moments to collect yourself. Daveth..."

I turned away, unable to watch, breathless from the weight of what I was allowing to happen. I could still stop it. But I wouldn't. I had to let him die. I closed my eyes so tightly that my head throbbed, and I tried to block out the sounds: his initial gasp of shock and pain; his laboured breathing, laced with fear; the terrible, agonising screams, and then, the worst; the chilling silence that followed. The evidence of what I had done. The silence had never seemed so loud before; so accusing.

"I'm sorry, Daveth." Duncan said, sadly, and Grayson let out a strangled gasp beside me.

_He's dead because of you. Look at what you've done._

I opened my eyes, slowly turning back to look at him. He lay sprawled out, face-down on the hard, stone floor. I raised a hand to my mouth. It was one thing to see a dead man in a game, or in a movie, but this was a real man, and I had liked him, despite myself. And now he was just gone. _Because of you. You did that._

I looked away, blinking back tears, as Jory started to retreat, reaching behind him for his sword.

"Step forward, Jory."

"But...I have a wife..." He looked around, wildly, looking to us for help, for support. I wanted so badly to give it to him. "A child...had I known..."

"There is no turning back." Duncan said, gravely, advancing on him, holding the goblet out, visibly willing him to take it. I looked into his eyes, and saw the sadness in their depths. He already knew then, I think, that Jory would have to die by his hand. But still, he held the goblet out to him, pleading silently.

"There is no glory in this!" Jory insisted, raising his sword, the fear in his eyes hardening as his fight or flight instincts battled within him, until the Knight in him chose to fight. Duncan placed the goblet down, gently, sombrely, and unsheathed his own sword. His movements were slow and reluctant, and his face was a mask of regret. Grayson shifted beside me, realising what was about to happen. I placed a hand on his arm, and he looked at me, urgently. I shook my head. The sound of steel on steel brought our attention back to the two men just in time to see Duncan run Jory through with his sword. Grayson shook his head in disbelief: it had all happened so fast.

"I'm sorry, Jory." Duncan said, quietly, as the man died in his arms. We all stood in silence and I looked over at Alistair, but he avoided my gaze, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. Duncan laid Jory's body down, removing his sword and sheathing it, before reaching for the goblet again, wordlessly. He turned back to us.

"But the Joining is not yet complete. Lauren?" I turned to Grayson.

"No matter what happens, don't do anything stupid. You have to complete the ritual." I said, quietly, so that only he could hear.

He frowned, looking unsure of himself, and I clasped his shoulder, encouragingly. He met my eyes and nodded. I limped away from him, struggling to remain upright without his support, but I kept my eyes fixed on Duncan and gritted my teeth in determination, ignoring the pain that seized every muscle in my body with each step that I took. He closed the distance between us and handed me the goblet, letting go when he was sure I had the strength to hold it.

I half-turned my body and smiled weakly at Grayson and Alistair.

"Well...see you on the other side, guys." I croaked and, taking a deep breath, I raised the cup to my lips, closed my eyes, cleared my mind, and drank.

The last thing I knew before the pain, and the darkness, was hearing Duncan's voice, close by my ear.

"I'm sorry, Lauren."

I hoped that Alistair remembered the letter that I had given him. I hoped that I could do some good, even though I was dead now. My life to save Duncan and King Cailan...well, I could live with that. Or, I guessed, I wouldn't have to. I wondered, vaguely, if this was all there was. Just this void, and my own thoughts. I wondered if I would find anybody else in this abyss. I marvelled, briefly, at the revelation that there was, in fact, some version of an afterlife, even if it was a bit shit, and there weren't any winged, harp-playing fairies lying on clouds, eating ambrosia, drinking nectar and singing Sarah McLachlan songs. That would have been lovely.

I wondered if I would find my sister here, but I didn't know how I would even begin. I couldn't feel my body, so I guessed that it wasn't mine any more. I wondered how one moved around without a body. And if I didn't have a body, why did I feel so damn thirsty all of a sudden? And hungry? Disembodied voices don't eat and drink. Wait, was this Hell? Was Hell being thirsty and hungry for all of eternity? Or was it Purgatory? I didn't even know what Purgatory was. I scolded myself for not reading more into it while I was alive. Maybe I'd be better equipped if I knew a bit more about what I was dealing with.

I was really thirsty now, my throat burned with it. Wait, my throat? Yes, I definitely had a throat. I dry-swallowed a few times to make sure, and it hurt, but it was still nice to know that I had one. Then, all of a sudden, I felt the rim of a cup being placed to my lips. I had lips! I had never been so happy to have lips before. And then I felt the cup being tilted, and cool, delicious liquid was poured into my mouth and I gulped, greedily, savouring every drop of...was it water? It had never tasted so good. Maybe death wouldn't be so bad, after all.

"Lauren?"

There was someone else here! I wasn't alone after all.

"Lauren, can you hear me?"

That sounded like Alistair's voice...what was he doing here? This was _my_ afterlife, he should be off saving Ferelden or something. His voice sounded far-away and panicked. I didn't want to deal with panicked Alistair, I was just enjoying this nice, delicious water and having lips, and now he was going to come along and ruin everything.

"Lauren?" His voice was closer now, and more urgent. I kept quiet. Maybe he wouldn't hear me and he would go away. "She's not waking up, Duncan."

I heard Duncan's sad sigh reverberate around in the blackness.

"I feared that she was too far gone to be saved the moment you returned from the Wilds. I had hoped...but I am afraid she is gone, Alistair. There was only a very small chance that this would work. You knew that."

"But...I promised her she would be okay." Alistair sounded upset. I felt bad for making him feel guilty. If there was some way I could make him understand that I was okay here, that I had delicious water and lips and a throat, and maybe I would find some more body parts if he would just leave me alone for a minute, then maybe he wouldn't feel so bad about me dying. Well...if I had lips and a throat, maybe I had a voice? I tried it out.

"It's okay, Alistair." Oh, my voice sounded horrible here. It was weak and scratchy. I used to be quite a good singer. I had always been given the solos when I was forced to sing with the school choir, my mum said I had the voice of an angel, and now I sounded like my horrible Aunt Irene. That was a bit of a bummer.

"Lauren!" Alistair exclaimed in relief, grabbing my shoulders. Hey, I had shoulders now! This day was turning out all right. "You're okay!"

"Yes, I'm okay. Being dead isn't so bad." I replied, smiling into the blackness.

"Lauren, open your eyes." He said, gently.

"I don't have eyes yet, Alistair." I explained. "I only have lips and shoulders. And a throat. Maybe some day..."

"Lauren!" I felt hands slapping my cheeks, lightly. I had cheeks! This was an exciting time. But the slapping - I was sure it was Alistair - wasn't sore, but it was becoming annoying.

"Stop slapping me, let me rest in peace." I groaned, leaning away from him - hey, I had a neck - and I felt his thumb sliding up my cheek, gently opening my eye. My eye. I did have eyes after all. And there was Alistair, grinning down at me. It took a few seconds for me to figure out what was happening. Once I realised, I groaned in disappointment.

"You're dead too? How did that happen?" I asked, sympathetically. He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. He looked amused.

"No, I'm not dead. And neither are you. But you might be a bit mental." He replied, with a wide smile. I blinked at him, uncomprehendingly.

"I'm alive?" I asked, suspiciously. He chuckled, nodding. I narrowed my eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Get up, you moron. Come on, on your feet." He replied, good-naturedly, grabbing my forearms and hoisting me upright. I swayed, dizzily, on the spot and shook my head, trying to clear the fuzziness. I looked around and saw Duncan smiling at me.

"How do you feel?"

"Confused. But alive! Who'd have thought it." My happiness was short-lived, however, when I took in the rest of my surroundings. The bodies of Daveth and Jory lay where they fell, and the smile vanished from my face. "Where's Grayson?"

"He is okay. He hasn't woken yet, but he will be just fine." Duncan assured me, gesturing to Grayson's unconscious form lying a few feet from us.

"Two more deaths." Alistair muttered, as I turned back to our fallen companions. "In my Joining, only one of us died, but it was still...horrible."

"Let me guess...the guy who died was the one who had been infected with the taint beforehand? The one with the attitude problem that you told me about?" I threw him a sideways glance and he grimaced, guiltily.

"I didn't want to worry you unnecessarily." He replied, with a sheepish smile. "Did you have dreams?" He asked, changing the subject. "I had terrible dreams after my Joining."

"No. I think...I think I really was dead, you know." I replied, shrugging when he rolled his eyes. "What? I do! I think I died for a little while, and then I...got better, somehow. Well, I don't know, do I? I've never died before, this was my first time."

"It has been known to happen, in some cases, that the recruit has slipped into near-death before recovering. Most often, in cases like yours, where the chances of survival are...limited." Duncan explained.

"Yeah, thanks for that heads up, by the way." I muttered, sarcastically.

"If you had not drank the blood, you would be dead for certain. Like Alistair, I did not see any point in worrying you without cause."

"Before I forget..." Alistair said, reaching into his armour and producing a small, glass pendant full of black liquid: Darkspawn blood, naturally. He handed it to me and I took it, raising my eyebrows.

"I'm more of a diamonds girl, actually, but blood's nice too." I said, screwing my face up.

"It's the final part of your Joining. We take some of the blood and put it in a pendant, to remind us of those who didn't make it." We both glanced over at the bodies, and bowed our heads, respectfully. Daveth...Jory...I _had_ to let them die. It was the only way. I snapped my head up. I had almost forgotten. Dying really messes with your head.

"Alistair, the letter I gave you...do you have it?" He looked puzzled for a second, before comprehension dawned on his face, and he reached back into his armour and produced the folded up note. "Great. Now...if you could both please read it."

"Lauren, is this really the time?" Alistair asked, glancing at Duncan.

"Actually, it's the only time." I promised. "Please. I'm going to have to ask you both to place a lot of faith in me. More faith than any one person deserves, and I can't hope for that kind of suspension of disbelief without some sort of proof that I know what I'm talking about. So please...lives depend on it. Can you just confirm that this is the piece of paper I gave to you before the Joining ritual, and it hasn't left your possession since?" I had seen this on Derren Brown. I knew my shit. Alistair nodded to Duncan in confirmation. "Just...check that...that's your signature, yes? And there's no way anybody could have switched it or tampered with it or-"

"No, Lauren, there's no way anybody could have switched it, you've been "dead" and nobody else knew I had it." Alistair replied, impatiently.

"And you would have noticed if I'd reached inside your armour and took it."

He coughed, and reddened slightly.

"Yes, I'm sure I would have noticed that, Lauren."

"Okay, good." I smiled, satisfied that there could be no doubt that it was authentic. Thank you, Derren Brown: you clever, clever man, you. "Please."

He sighed, and he and Duncan shared a doubtful look, but he unfolded the paper and Duncan leaned in closer to read. I watched their expressions change rapidly, from doubtful to confused to disbelieving to dumbfounded, as they read back the events that had just unfolded, blow-by-blow...and the prediction that followed. When they had finished, they looked up at me in unison.

"Lauren...how, in Andraste's name, did you do this?" Duncan asked, quietly. His tone hovered somewhere between anger and awe.

I took a deep breath.

"Well, that's a long story." I started. "One that we don't have time for. You read the last bit, about-"

"My death? Loghain's betrayal? The death of the King of Ferelden?" Duncan interjected, narrowing his eyes. "Yes, I did."

"It's true. It will all happen. If we go up against the Darkspawn tonight, we will lose. You and Cailan will be killed, and Loghain will issue a warrant for the arrest of any remaining Grey Wardens, blaming us for the King's death. We have to do something. We have to change it." I said, urgently.

"You expect me to believe that the Queen's father, the best friend of Cailan's father, would betray his son-in-law, his King..."

"I didn't expect you to believe. That's why I let those two men over there _die_ , Duncan. To provide you with proof that I know the future. I know what's going to happen before it happens. Please...you have to believe me. Don't let their deaths be in vain." I pleaded, quietly, holding his gaze with fierce determination.

"I believe her." Alistair said, quietly, glancing at Duncan, and the two shared a look. "How else can you explain this?" He gestured to the paper.

"Warning you of Loghain's betrayal is the only reason I came to Ostagar in the first place, and I've paid for it with my life. I may have survived the Joining, but we both know that being a Grey Warden is a death sentence: an early grave and a lifetime of struggle. I haven't done this lightly, Duncan. But I've done what I came to do. It's your burden to carry now, I'm afraid. You can believe me, or you can dismiss all of this as some kind of clever trick or scheme: the choice is yours." I sounded a lot more confident than I felt. Every fibre of my being was acutely aware that if he chose not to believe me, I'd have been better off succumbing to the Darkspawn taint. It doesn't take a genius to figure out the penalty for treason, when the penalty for desertion was being hung in a cage until you starved to death.

Duncan held my gaze for what felt like several minutes, and I felt as though I could actually see the cogs of his mind working, trying to decide whether to believe me or not. Eventually, he looked away, shaking his head miserably, and my heart sank.

"Duncan..." I started, but he cut me off with a wave of his hand, turning back to face me.

"So, Lauren Duval...what do you suggest we do?" He asked, and I blinked up at him in confusion.

"You mean...you believe me?" I asked, stunned. He smiled, grimly.

"Yes, Lauren. Yes, I suppose I do." He clasped a hand to my shoulder, and I grinned in relief, realising only then that I had never truly believed that this might actually work. If I had Duncan on board...maybe I could actually change things after all.

A few feet away, Grayson finally stirred, groaning. He sat upright, looking around.

"Hey, buddy." I called, softly, as we approached him. "How are you feeling? It's some trip, huh?"

"Hey...we made it." He grinned, wearily, as Alistair helped him to his feet. "Well, today has been...eventful. I'll sleep well tonight."

Alistair, Duncan and I exchanged looks.

"What?" He asked, apprehensively. I stepped towards him, rubbing his arm sympathetically.

"Aw...you'll sleep tomorrow." I assured him, and his expression fell. I thought about it for a bit. "Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the day after...and maybe just a power nap." I grimaced apologetically, and turned to the others. "Gentlemen...we have work to do."


	14. The Last Laugh

I sprinted across the great, stone bridge, dodging soldiers and hurdling sleeping mabari. My thighs burned and my calves ached unpleasantly, a token of too many nights in front of the television and not enough gym time. It was a good thing I had a fast metabolism, or I would definitely be known as "the fat twin". The "skinny gene", as my sister called it, was the only welcome gift my father had ever given me. The added weight of the splint-mail armour wasn't making things any easier, and eventually I slowed to a stop a little more than halfway across the bridge and bent double, panting.

"God, I'm so unfit." I scolded myself, catching my breath and preparing to run some more.

"I don't know, you look pretty fit to me." One of the nearby soldiers called, and the men around him laughed, appreciatively. I fake laughed, and drew myself upright, shooting an unamused look in the direction of the cat-caller. I started forward, only to whirl back around when I realised with a start that I recognised one of the faces in the group. I put it together with the voice and the pieces slid into place with an almost audible click as my brain made the connection. A random memory surfaced in my mind, a snippet of conversation that hadn't even taken place in this world yet: _"We've been running since Ostagar."_ I blinked in surprise.

"Hawke?" I asked, squinting at him. He squinted back at me, his amber eyes probing my face for any sign of familiarity and, of course, finding none.

"Do I know you?" He asked, grinning easily, and a few of the men nudged him suggestively with their elbows, laughing lewdly. _Ugh. Boys. I hate it when they travel in packs._

"No, you don't." I looked him over, calculatingly, the new aspect of my brain taking in his build, stance and arsenal. _Broad-shoulders. Long-sword. Heavy armour. Warrior class. Good news for Bethany, then._ I felt a tug at the corner of my mouth and shrugged, meeting his eyes again. They glinted with amusement, but there was something else there, too, beneath the bravado. He was sizing me up, just as I was him. I inclined my head, and he reciprocated the gesture as I started to back away, suddenly remembering why I had been running in the first place. "Be seeing you, then."

"With any luck." He grinned, devilishly, and I knew that it was for the benefit of the mindless, testosterone-driven horde. I smirked, good-naturedly, and spun around, picking up speed until I was flat-out sprinting again.

After we had filled Grayson in on everything he had missed, Duncan had declared that he would speak with Cailan alone. He reasoned that my information may not go over very well with the king and, if he chose not to believe it, the consequences could be dire. He agreed that what I told him would be considered treason if the information was ill-received, and insisted that he didn't want me to be implicated, should that be the case, and so he sent me to the Tower of Ishal to carry a message to one of the soldiers there. I knew it was just busy work to make me feel like I wasn't completely useless, but I bit my tongue and did it anyway.

I had caused enough trouble, I wasn't in any position to argue, but I felt wretched that Duncan had shouldered the burden that was rightfully mine. So when I was approached by a mage and informed that my presence had been requested at the war council, I knew that something must have happened.

A hundred thoughts raced through my mind as my feet pounded the stone beneath me, and none of them were positive. Maybe Duncan had been forced to tell Cailan the truth about me, or maybe he had never believed me to begin with. Maybe this was all part of some elaborate ruse to trap the crazy girl and cart her off to the nearest mental asylum. _No,_ I told myself _, Duncan is an honourable man. You're being paranoid._ I just hoped I wasn't running headlong into a prison sentence...or worse. I reached the other side of the bridge and slowed to a jog, unable to keep sprinting and wondering with no small degree of irritation when my Grey Warden stamina was going to kick in.

Without the fires that blazed at regular intervals along the bridge to light my way, I half-ran, half-stumbled through the darkness, relying on memory to find the entrance to the ruin where the council was taking place. I slowed a little, as I tried to take stock of my surroundings. A light burned up ahead, to the right, and I recognised the stone ramp that I was searching for. I broke into a run again, my eyes fixed determinedly on my destination. So much so that I didn't notice the dark shape moving in front of me until I collided with it head first and landed awkwardly on my backside on the hard ground with a very unladylike grunt. The figure I had collided with stumbled but didn't fall, and spun around, his hand moving instinctively to the hilt of his sword.

"Who goes there?" He demanded, on edge after having just been tackled by an unseen entity.

"Alistair?" I squinted, pushing myself to my feet and brushing myself off.

"Lauren? What are you doing here? I thought Duncan sent you-"

"He did. I've been summoned by the king." I said, ominously.

"And you thought you would express your displeasure with this by attacking me?" He asked, and though his face was masked in shadow, I could tell by his voice that he was smirking. I shrugged.

"It was as good a plan as any." I replied. "Come with me...please? I don't know why the king wants to see me, but it can't be good. If things go South, we might have to fight our way out."

"Woah, woah, slow down there. We're not going to be fighting anyone. Not tonight, anyway. Look, I've been standing watch since the council convened, Loghain and the others are still in there. Duncan said he would speak with Cailan alone. Whatever he's summoned you for, I don't think it will have anything to do with...what you're thinking." He assured me. I nodded, but my anxiety was still intact.

"I know, I just...I'm nervous. I'd feel a lot better if you were with me."

"You would?" He asked, and I thought I detected a hint of amusement in his voice. I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, don't read too much into it. You have a large sword and you know how to use it. Surprisingly, I find that oddly reassuring." I replied, facetiously.

"All right, all right. If you insist." He said, with faux reluctance. "You know, Lauren, I'm a bit hurt by that. I thought you and I were becoming fast friends. I had no idea you were only interested in me for my large sword."

I raised an eyebrow at the double entendre, and although my face was shrouded in darkness, my amused silence was enough to bring it to his attention.

"Uh...that came out wrong." He said, embarrassed.

"Yeah...maybe it will be best if you let me do the talking." I grinned, as I started towards the stone ramp once more. He followed me, stammering.

"I didn't mean-"

"I know, Alistair. Jeez. You have to lighten up a little." I said over my shoulder.

"I know, it's just...that's not...I wouldn't joke about... _that_ sort of thing with a...with a Lady. I wasn't raised that way, it's not-"

"Dude. Relax. It's fine. I'm not that sort of Lady." I insisted, shaking my head at his awkwardness. "You can stop blushing now."

"How do you know I'm blushing? It's dark. You can't see me. I'm not blushing. I'm a grown man. I don't blush." He insisted.

"Yes you do. I can practically feel the heat radiating from your face. It's singeing the little hairs on the back of my neck." I teased, as we ascended the ramp. The council meeting was visible ahead of us, but we were far enough away that they hadn't noticed our approach yet.

"I'm not blushing." He muttered, sulkily. I threw a nervous grin over my shoulder at him as I waited for him to catch up. He looked up at my anxious face, and then at the men waiting for us. "Ready, then?"

"Not even a little bit." I heaved a sigh, though even his presence there was a comfort to me. I felt a lot less panicked now than I had before. He slapped my back, encouragingly, and strode forward before I could say anything else. I followed him, mutely, my heart pounding in my ears. As we approached, I tried to read the room. A large man who I recognised instantly as Loghain - my stomach did a quick somersault - was gesticulating wildly, slamming his fist on the stone table. He didn't look happy. I looked to Cailan, who was observing the scene with an easy grin on his face. Even from a distance, I was struck by how much he resembled Alistair. Duncan was the first to notice us, and I was unnerved to see that he looked surprised by our sudden appearance. Cailan looked up as we neared the table and beamed at us.

"Alistair! And this must be the other new Warden." He grinned, cutting off Loghain's tirade as he walked around the table to greet us. Loghain half-turned towards us and regarded us with a contemptuous look, his eyes flashing impatiently. I returned the king's smile, nervously, glancing at Duncan for support, but he continued to look confused by our presence. I returned my attention to Cailan.

"Yes! Lauren DuVal. Well met, your grace." I responded, bowing my head respectfully. _Should I curtsey? How do you curtsey in armour?_

"Lauren." Duncan stepped forward, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Alistair. I trust you both have a purpose for being here?" Oh, that wasn't just surprise on his face, after all. He was furious.

"Forgive me, Duncan." Cailan said, unapologetically. "It was I who summoned young Lauren here. It was my wish to make the acquaintance of _both_ of your new Wardens. Lauren! Well met, indeed. I hear congratulations are in order." He beamed at me, and I threw him a lop-sided grin, trying to gather my thoughts. It took me a moment to realise what he was congratulating me on. _Oh, right. The Joining._

"Thanks. It was no big deal,really. All I had to do was not die, and I've been doing that for years now." I replied, before remembering who I was speaking to and hastily adding "Your majesty."

Alistair nudged me, playfully, and I looked up, surprised to see he was grinning at me.

"Something tells me we're going to have our hands full with this one." He said, more for Cailan's benefit than mine. I wondered how he must have felt, standing there, talking to the brother who didn't know who he really was. Looking between the two of them, the resemblance was striking. _Seriously?_ I thought, incredulously. _Not one person in Ferelden has questioned that? Ever? Not one person has ever said ,"Hey, you two have the exact same face, that's weird."? People are idiots._

"Hardly. If anything, _I'm_ the one who's going to have my hands full." I laughed, winking at him, and Alistair reddened slightly, and I realised that what I had just said, and the playful way in which I had said it, could have been taken more than one way. I guessed he was still a little sensitive to suggestive word play due to his earlier faux pas, I doubted anybody else would have even picked up on that. But his reaction wasn't going unnoticed by the rest of the men. Grayson cleared his throat, a little uncomfortably, and Duncan rolled his eyes towards the Heavens, in a look that clearly said "Maker, give me strength, for I am surrounded by morons."

Cailan's grin widened and his eyes sparkled boyishly as he observed the blush rising in Alistair's face. "He's already forced a _massive_ helmet on me." I thought I would elaborate to show that I hadn't meant it as an innuendo, before realising I had just made it a lot worse. Alistair laughed, but it was forced and embarrassed as he glanced at Cailan for his reaction. I followed his gaze and saw that he looked terribly amused. "I mean...you should have seen it, it was huge, it kept falling down past my eyes so I couldn't see where I was going...just...ridiculous..." I was being overly enthusiastic, gesturing wildly, and looking like a complete idiot, but at least my closing statement couldn't have been mistaken for anything other than what it was.

The two men exchanged a significant look, but I pretended not to notice. Rather they both thought me innocent and clueless as to what I had unwittingly implied. At least I was the idiot in this scenario and not Alistair. I could handle being the idiot, I had had a lot of practice at it, but I would hate to think I had embarrassed him in front of Cailan. "But it's okay, I used it to incapacitate a Hurlock and then it got lost in the Korcari Wilds, never to be seen again. I hope." I finished rambling, and flashed him what I hoped was my most winning smile.

"Yes, well, as interesting as all of this is, do you think we could perhaps, oh, I don't know, get back to discussing our strategy for the imminent battle against the Darkspawn horde on our doorstep?" Loghain drawled, with undiluted irritation. I decided I hated him. Obviously, I already hated him, he was scum. But now that I had met him face-to-face, I legitimately hated him. I hated his face. I hated his voice. I definitely hated the way he was leering at me like I was some foolish child. Admittedly, I had done very little to alter this impression with my crazy rambling, but I still hated it.

"Good idea! Why don't we just go and leave you guys to it!" I said, with forced enthusiasm, as I backed away, pulling Alistair with me.

"Nonsense, stay! This involves you, too. The mighty Grey Wardens will be riding into battle by my side!" Cailan said, and I was reminded forcefully of an excited puppy. I shook my head, fervently.

"No, no, we couldn't possibly...so much to do...thank you so much for meeting with me, your grace." I said, as if it had been my idea all along. "I, uh...look forward to our next meeting."

"Of course." He replied, looking a little puzzled, before the grin spread across his face again. "We shall destroy the Darkspawn threat once and for all, side by side, in tomorrow's battle."

I laughed shrilly.

"Sure...sure..." I said, and caught Duncan's eye as he flashed me a warning look. "Well...good luck with your planning and...shit."

I turned on my heel quickly before I could say anything else and strode off in the opposite direction, with Alistair following closely at my heels. We rounded the corner at the ramp and I started jogging towards the bonfire where we were to meet with Duncan and Grayson after all talks had ended. When we got there, I turned to look at Alistair, who was staring at me like I was on fire.

"What?" I demanded, running a hand through my hair, self-consciously.

"Good luck with your planning and shit." He repeated my earlier words, in a monotone.

"What?"

"You just said that. To the king of Ferelden." He said, slowly, as if speaking to a small child.

"Oh...I did, didn't I?" I muttered, biting my lip. We looked at each other in silence before collapsing in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. We laughed until it stopped being funny, and then we caught each other's eye and dissolved into hysterics once more. We laughed until I wasn't even sure what we were laughing at any more, but it felt good. We were still struggling to contain ourselves when Grayson approached us out of the surrounding darkness.

"Hey, Gray." I greeted, and Alistair nodded in his direction, still grinning from ear to ear.

"Duncan is speaking with the king, he sent me to wait with you...Lauren, I think you made quite an impression on King Cailan..." Grayson said, with an apologetic smile.

And that was it. Grayson watched us with an air of great concern, clearly thinking we had both lost our tiny minds as we erupted in howls of glee once more. Alistair was bent over double, slapping his knee and crying "Stop, stop, I can't breathe" between outbursts. After a while, even Grayson joined in, laughing at us, rather than with us, but it was a wonderful thing regardless.

If we had known then the direction of the conversation that was taking place between Duncan and King Cailan, we wouldn't be laughing. But in those few, blissful moments before everything fell apart, we laughed. It would be the last time any of us would do so for a while, after that night. The battle for Ferelden, and for our lives, was about to begin.


	15. The Tower of Ishal

The second the laughter stopped, the gravity of the situation I was in hit me with a force that almost buckled my knees. I met Alistair's eyes and saw my own sense of sudden dread reflected back at me in his expression.

"Duncan's been away an awfully long time. Don't you think?" I asked, anxiously chewing my lip and throwing a nervous glance over my shoulder at the stone ramp, half-expecting to see Loghain striding towards me with a squad of guardsmen to clap me in irons and drag me away.

"Hey." Grayson clapped a reassuring hand on my shoulder to still me. "Don't worry. You've done everything you can right now. We just have to trust that the generals leading this thing will listen. You might have saved the lives of hundreds of good men tonight. You did the right thing, Lauren."

"I just can't believe Loghain. He was the Hero of River Dane and Marric's best friend. His daughter is _married_ to Cailan for Andraste's sake. It just doesn't seem possible." Alistair muttered, mostly to himself. He caught my eye and held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Not...that I'm saying I don't believe _you_ , I just...don't believe _Loghain_. What could he stand to gain from betraying his king?"

Grayson shrugged.

"I don't think it's that surprising. It's often the people we trust the most whose name can be found on the handle of the dagger buried in our back. It wouldn't be betrayal otherwise. This, I know." He said, darkly, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. Kahn lay patiently at his feet, but let out a low, trembling growl. Whether he was responding to the quiet, restrained anger in his master's voice or whether Mabari really are as clever as they say, I didn't know, but the sound sent a shiver down my spine.

"Yeah. Besides, Loghain's not the man he was. Cailan's been corresponding with Empress Celene trying to broker an alliance with Orlais. Loghain's hatred of Orlesians has blinded him to all other enemies, including the Darkspawn. He's completely paranoid. That's why he intends to betray Cailan; he feels as though Cailan betrayed him first." I explained, examining my nailbeds and absent-mindedly wondering if I would ever have nice, manicured fingers again when I caught them both staring, a little slack-jawed at me. "What? Did I say that thing about my nails out loud?"

"You know a lot." Alistair said, slowly. "It's very…" He raised his eyes skywards as if searching for the right word among the stars. "Useful." He decided, eventually.

"Yes, well, I didn't have a boyfriend and it rains a lot back home so I clocked a lot of game time…which is to say I learned a lot of very useful information that is very applicable in real life." I finished quickly in answer to their confused expressions.

Alistair started to reply but cut himself off when something behind me caught his attention and I whipped around at the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Duncan. What news?" He asked in a business-like tone that didn't quite mask the anxiety in his voice. Duncan approached us in silence with an unreadable expression on his face and my breath caught in my throat.

"Alistair. The horde approaches, and the battle is almost upon us. Your task is to take Lauren and Grayson to the Tower of Ishal. Once there, you will-"

"No." I blurted out, shaking my head in denial and moving to stand in front of Duncan, forcing him to meet my eyes. "This is wrong. This happened before, exactly like this. What happened?"

Duncan looked down his hooked nose at me and to my immense relief, his eyes crinkled in a warm smile. "Loghain has been relieved of his command."

All three of us breathed a collective sigh of relief and Grayson let out a nervous bark of a laugh.

"Cailan believed you?" Alistair asked, clearly not quite allowing himself to believe our good fortune.

"I'm not sure that he truly believed what I was saying, but it was enough to make him doubt. Loghain will be leading the charge with Cailan and the Grey Wardens, where we can keep our eyes on him and another of the king's generals will lead Loghain's men to flank the horde on the field. Loghain was not happy about it but he has sense enough that he would not disobey Cailan openly."

"I can't believe it." I grinned as an almost physical weight lifted from my shoulders leaving me feeling elated. "We're out of danger. Surely it can't be that easy." The three men exchanged meaningful glances and I winced. "Oh, right. I mean unless you count the horde of vicious darkspawn marching towards us with every intention of peeling us like satsumas."

"And the horde is closer than we had anticipated. Cailan and his generals are readying the men as we speak. The battle is imminent." Duncan declared, heavily. "Grayson, you heard what the king said. Alistair will accompany you and Lauren to the Tower of Ishal and ensure the beacon is lit."

"What? I won't be in the battle?" Alistair asked in dismay.

"This is by the king's personal request, Alistair. If the beacon is not lit, the flanking army won't know when to charge."

"So he needs three Grey Wardens standing up there holding the torch. Just in case, right?"

"I agree with Alistair. We should be out there with you." Grayson frowned, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword.

"We must do whatever it takes to destroy the darkspawn...exciting or no." Duncan replied, with an air of slight irritation.

"And besides, that tower is just _crawling_ with darkspawn." I agreed.

"I get it, I get it." Alistair conceded, reluctantly. "Just so you know, if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold...wait, what?" He cut himself off mid-thought, staring at me quizzically.

"My thoughts exactly, Alistair." Duncan said, sternly. It took a few seconds under the scrutiny of their gazes before realisation dawned on me.

"Oh...shit, yeah. That wasn't the original plan, was it? God dammit, I keep forgetting stuff!" I cursed myself, kicking away a clump of grass in frustration. "I've spent the last few weeks playing Inquisition, all of this stuff just isn't as fresh as...anyway, all of that is just complete nonsense, isn't it?" I caught myself, mid-ramble. "The point is, there are darkspawn in the tower, they came up through the lower chambers which, if I remember correctly, break through into the Deep Roads. So we should really get over there."

"When you say "crawling with darkspawn", are we talking a few stragglers or...?" Grayson trailed off, anxiously.

"Oh, no, there's...there's a bunch of 'em." I said, apologetically.

"This is worrying news." Duncan said, grimly. He thought in silence for a moment before breathing a heavy sigh. "It would have been...beneficial to know this beforehand. But let us not dwell on what might have been. There is no way to change tactics, no time to relay this to the flanking army. They have already taken up their position. They will still look for the beacon before charging."

"We can do this. Between the three of us-" Kahn barked, indignantly "- _four_ of us, we can fight our way through and get that beacon lit." I said, fiercely, trying to convince myself as well as the others. I was so disappointed in myself, so furious with myself for the oversight, that I felt a renewed sense of determination rise within me. I would make up for this. I would make it right. "Alistair, you know the signal to look out for, right?"

"What?" He asked, clearly thrown for a loop by the new turn of events. "Yes! The signal." He confirmed, with a curt nod.

"Duncan, I know what to do. I know where to go. I know the challenges that lie ahead. I've seen this. I know that we can do this." I promised, believing every word. Adrenaline coursed through me and a fire rose in my belly. In that moment, I felt like I could take on a horde of darkspawn single-handedly. Whether it was the certainty in my voice, the fire in my eyes or the fact that, at this point, he didn't really have a choice either way, I wasn't sure, but Duncan nodded.

"Alright, Lauren. I will inform the king of this new development. Perhaps we can buy you some more time. From the top of the tower you will overlook the entire valley. We will signal you when the time is right. I must join the others. From here, you three are on your own. Remember you are all Grey Wardens. I expect you to be worthy of that title." He said, his eyes lingering on me, pointedly. I nodded to show my understanding and his expression softened slightly. He turned to leave and Alistair took a step towards him.

"Duncan...may the Maker watch over you." He said, with a quiet sincerity that he didn't often show.

"May he watch over us all."

And with that, Duncan was gone. Alistair watched as he disappeared into the darkness before turning to us.

"Alright. You heard the man. Let's get to that tower."

"At least we're getting some action now, Alistair." Grayson grinned as the three of us took off at a brisk jog.

"That's one way to look at it." He replied as we reached the bridge. The battle wasn't yet under-way so there were no burning projectiles to avoid as made our way across it, for which I silently thanked whichever God I was supposed to thank in this place. Alistair half-turned his head towards me as we ran and offered a small smile, which I took to mean he wasn't holding a grudge over my lack of foresight. I still felt like an idiot, but at least I knew that they weren't holding it against me. Considering we were about to run headlong into a life-or-death situation, it helped to know that I was fighting alongside people who had my back.

We reached the tower without incident. We were earlier than we had been in the game, and the soldiers at the base of the tower still stood guard. I fell back, allowing Alistair to take point. He approached the commanding officer and the two exchanged brief words before Alistair turned back to us and the commander summoned two of his men, relaying orders.

"There are darkspawn in the lower chambers." He confirmed. "The men here have barricaded the doors and they're holding...for now. That gives us time to get to the top unhindered. We just have to hold the tower and wait for the signal."

"Okay, good...so how do we get back out of the tower once the beacon is lit if the darkspawn have broken through by then and we're trapped on the top floor?" Grayson asked. Alistair and I exchanged looks but said nothing. "Oh." He muttered, in realisation.

"Don't worry." I said, in the lightest tone I could manage, but even as I said it I felt the redundancy of my words.

"All that matters is that we get to the beacon." Alistair said, with so much certainty that I felt my own confidence surge a little more.

"In war, victory." I recited. He looked at me, a little surprised, and a small, brief smile flashed across his features.

"Let's go."

As soon as we entered the tower, the earth shook. It sounded and felt like thunder, but it wasn't coming from above us. It was coming from beneath our feet. Those doors weren't holding for much longer, and we all knew it. The crashing spurred us on and we raced through the tower, up the first flight of stairs. I practically threw myself at the heavy door leading to the first floor and Grayson caught me when I almost went flying - it hadn't been quite as heavy as I had anticipated. I kept my eyes forward as we ran, unable to bring myself to look at any of the soldiers we passed on our ascent. They were all going to die. That was unavoidable at this stage. It felt wrong. It felt cowardly, like we were running away from the battle. But I knew in my heart that we were going where we were needed most. If we stopped, if we went back to try and hold the darkspawn off in the lower levels of the tower, we would be wasting time that we simply didn't have. To delay would be to risk missing the signal, and if we missed the signal it wouldn't have mattered that Loghain's treachery had been foiled and the Grey Wardens really would be to blame for the king's death. So I forced myself not to think about it, forced myself not to see their faces. I didn't want to have to see them in my nightmares for the rest of my life, like I would see Daveth's and Jory's.

_In death, sacrifice._

We reached the top floor in a matter of minutes and only then did I allow myself to slow down and take stock of my surroundings. There were no soldiers here, it was just the three of us and Kahn. No ogre either. _Not yet_ , a little voice said in my mind.

"It's started." Grayson said, quietly. I turned to see him standing by a window, and Alistair and I moved to join him. We couldn't see much from up here, couldn't distinguish any individuals, but we could see enough. We stood in silence, barely breathing, as we watched the creatures descend upon the field. From up here, Cailan's army looked pitifully small. I knew that that was all part of the plan: entice the darkspawn to mount an attack against them and then flank them, trapping them, hammer and anvil style. But still, it was a terrifying visual. The darkspawn poured onto the field, and the first of the ballistae fired on them, punching a hole in their ranks but more followed, undeterred. One-by-one, the projectiles were launched and one-by-one they struck, but there was no end to the horde. Panic fluttered in my chest. The main bulk of the army was supposed to flank them, but there had to be a flank to attack. The darkspawn seemed to grow from the darkness, like shadows gaining flesh.

"There are too many of them." I choked, blinking hopeless tears out of my eyes. I looked up at the men, waiting for someone to tell me I was wrong, to point out what I had missed, but neither of them did. They just watched, silently. Alistair's jaw worked furiously as his eyes darted calculatingly across the battlefield below us. "Alistair?"

"I'm thinking." He said, quietly. At that moment, a monstrous roar reverberated beneath us. The darkspawn had broken through.

"They're coming." I said, my voice thick with unshed tears. Grayson moved towards the doors, securing them before grabbing the closest table and shoving it in front of them. I moved to help him and Alistair followed suit, but I put a hand on his arm to stop him. "Keep your eyes out for the signal. Grayson and I will hold the doors as long as we can."

"I'll help you barricade the doors." He replied, starting forward, but I stepped in front of him.

"No, we've got this. You're the only one who knows what to look for." I reasoned, surprising myself by how steady my voice sounded when my heart was hammering in my chest at approximately three million beats a minute. As he met my eyes a silent agreement passed between us and he turned back to the window, gripping the sill and watching the battle with so much focus, I might have thought he was trying to control it with his mind. Grayson and I got to work, grabbing everything that wasn't nailed down and heaving it in front of the doors. Adrenaline was our fuel and we made relatively quick work of it. When I eventually stopped and stood back to survey our handiwork, there was a veritable mountain of wooden and stone furniture obstructing the doors completely from view. "That will have to do for now." I muttered, wincing as another bestial cry tore through the air, this one much closer than the first.

"Is that a darkspawn?" Grayson asked, frowning with uncertainty. "It sounds...bigger."

Kahn whined, scratching the floor furiously as though trying to dig a hole through the stone. Grayson placed a hand on the hound's head and he immediately calmed, looking up at his master with intelligent eyes.

"It is bigger." I replied, but I couldn't bring myself to elaborate. My mind was too full of a million other things. I felt so useless, just standing there waiting while a thousand battles raged below us. I started to make my way over to rejoin Alistair when he jumped up with a start.

"That's the signal! Light the beacon!" He commanded, with so much authority in his voice that I immediately ran over to the beacon before realising that I had nothing to light it with. I looked around, wildly, but Grayson was already kneeling beside me, flint in hand. Within seconds, sparks were flying and the kerosene-doused kindling caught fire almost instantly, sending Grayson back on his haunches. I reached down and helped him to his feet and he thanked me silently with a clap on the shoulder.

"What now?" He asked, looking from Alistair to me and back again. I drew my blades in answer and moved into the middle of the room to meet Alistair, and Grayson followed suit, silently, with Kahn at his heel. We didn't look at one another, each of us kept our eyes trained on the doors. We could hear the fighting, could hear the sounds of death as they drew closer and closer and then...silence. For the briefest of moments, I wondered if it was over, if we'd somehow won without ever having to lift our swords. I rose out of my fighting stance and lowered my blades, glancing at Alistair and Grayson in disbelief.

And then I heard it. There was a faint scratching noise at the door, accompanied by the unmistakable trill of a genlock. The scratching was followed by pounding, and the pounding grew louder and louder as more darkspawn reached the final barrier until it was almost deafening. Then the thunder crashed and a chair fell from the top of the pile. Again and again, it crashed and each time more of our barricade crumbled. My palms were sweaty as I adjusted my grip, fearful that my blades would slip through my grasp the moment I tried to swing. We had only seconds left before they were here.

"I'm glad I got to meet you guys." I said, quietly. "It's been an honour."

"In war, victory." Alistair's voice was strong and steady as another crash shook the world. "In peace, vigilance." Crash. "In death, sacrifice." Crash, crash, crash.

Then all at once, the doors seemed to explode and there it was, looking a hundred times more terrible than anything I could have imagined. Hurlocks and genlocks rushed past the mighty ogre, but the beast had locked eyes with me and it was all I saw. I should have been terrified but in that moment, all of my fear and my grief suddenly morphed into pure, unadulterated fury. I was going to die, of that I was certain. But I was going to take this bastard down with me.

"For the Grey Wardens!" Alistair cried and, as one, the four of us surged forward to meet our fates.


End file.
